The Kakarotto Timeline
by Pareathe
Summary: Another blast from the past from Pareathe. :P Originally written and posted around 2000-ish if memory serves. Set three months after the Cell Games arc. Re-posted by request. Forever incomplete...probably. Better description in the prologue.
1. Prologue

**The Kakarotto Timeline**

By Pareathe

(New A/N 10/18/2016): So by request via email, I'm reposting this forever-incomplete fanfic from 1999-2000 ish or thenabouts. So this is a very, very old fic. Needless to say it was both amazing and wonderful that anyone remembered it at all, let alone suggested it to someone else. But here it is, in all its aged and incomplete glory. :)

(Original A/N): Well, here's my first real attempt at an actual serious DBZ fanfic that'll be longer than one chapter... hope you like it! This is the general rundown for this fic (and will only appear once.)

Featured Couple: Goku (Kakarotto)/Bulma

Story Begins: Let's say about three months after the Cell Games

Summary: A project Bulma is working on goes wrong, and she is thrown into an alternate reality where the man she knew as Goku never fell into a ravine and hit his head as a child. Instead, Bulma comes face to face with the Saiyajin Kakarotto and learns startling truths about the future that would have been had that fateful incident never occurred, and what might have been.

Content Warning: This is rated NC-17 and will contain violence, graphic sexual situations, and other assorted goodies as I see fit. And this (obviously) will be mostly an A/U fic, so please don't flame me if you don't like A/U's, and some characters (Goku's and Bulma's children predominantly) just plain don't exist.

Disclaimer: In case anyone didn't know already, I don't own DBZ. Be thankful... very, very thankful.

* * *

 **Prologue**

Bulma wiped the stray strands of aqua hair from her face with a huff and glaring at the offenders when they simply returned to plaster themselves against her sweat-soaked cheeks. She hated feeling... dirty, but she had no intention whatsoever of leaving now.

After weeks of deep thought, sweat and downright inhuman perseverance, she was almost finished.

That thought alone brought a small smile to the woman's red-stained lips, the makeup applied early that morning long ago smudged away over the past - she glanced at her watch - fifteen hours.

 _Oh God, have I really been in here that long?_

Her stomach gave her the irrefutable answer, and she grimaced as the muscles clenched painfully. With a final sigh, she stood up, wincing as bones and muscles pulled and moved, albeit in dire protest of the action in general. She had been sitting in the exact same spot for hours now to work on one of the final vital components on the contraption. Her body apparently did not appreciate the lack of attention, she mused with a forced grin as she took several shaky steps to the tool table. With a final backwards glance, Bulma placed the items in her hands down onto it's rough surface before finally retreating from the confines of her lab to enter the land of the living once again.

Bulma took the steps carefully, almost paying too much attention to each one until she reached the soft pale carpet of the hallway leading to the front of the house.

 _One, two, three, four..._

Then she was at the first doorway, and she leaned against it heavily, not bothering to look into the large room. She already knew he was there. He was always there, sitting in the sill of the window... sitting... and waiting... She wanted so badly sometimes to be able to go to him. After all, she felt the pain of the loss just as greatly as he. Maybe even more.

"Go in there and eat, woman. I won't have the mother of my brat starve herself," came the sound of finely chipped gravel from across the room.

Bulma smiled weakly despite herself. "I am. Have you eaten?"

"Of course I have."

"Liar."

Eyes of burning twilight turned to gaze at her from under heavily dipped eyebrows. "Don't concern yourself with me. I am not the one locking themselves in a laboratory for days at a time trying to deny that the one I loved died before I got the guts to admit it."

"And I'm not the one sitting wasting away in the window waiting for a dead man to come back to spar," she shot back irritably even as her stomach rumbled again, much more demanding than the last time. He didn't have to say anything. She could tell he heard it by the very obvious victorious smirk on his face. "Come with me."

He turned to the window one last time, taking in the setting sun before finally unfolding his legs and moving to the floor, making his way to her with purposeful strides. "Whatever," he quipped, passing by her and leading the way to the kitchen.

Bulma followed quietly, seating herself and laying her head on her arms as the sounds of plates shifting and pans shuffling caught her ears. Then there was an audible 'thunk' next to her arm that coaxed her head up with the smells of roast beef, fried potatoes, and fresh bread.

"Eat," came the firm command from Vegeta would placed his own heaping plate across from hers before going to the refrigerator, pulling out a case of sodas to place on the table. He opened two, placing one in front of her.

Bulma couldn't help the grin that spread over her face. "I wonder what people would think if they knew that you served me dinner," she questioned playfully.

"They would be too preoccupied by your very sudden and tragic death, woman."

"Bastard."

"Bitch."

"Monkey boy."

"Wrinkled old hag."

Bulma chuckled before eyeing her plate again. "I don't know if I have the strength to lift the fork," she admitted grimly.

"Use some of the endless energy that runs your mouth," Vegeta suggested flatly between forkfuls.

Eyes of blue crystal rolled sarcastically. "You know, Vegeta, your sensitivity never ceases to amaze me."

Vegeta shrugged once before giving a defeated sigh. Glaring daggers, he threw his fork down and put two fingers to her forehead, pushing it up. Still holding her head with one hand, he pushed her plate under it with the other. "Now, if I let go, you're going straight into that," he remarked, glancing at the steaming pile below her, "so I suggest you get up and eat the damned food. Believe me, you don't want me to have to force you." He couldn't help giving her a look that screamed 'But I'd love it if you did...'

"Fine." He removed his hand and sat back down, and she replaced it by resting her chin in her hand as she took her fork. She swirled the contents of the plate around for several minutes before taking her first bite. Then she was swirling again, watching as thick brown gravy patterned against the rough texture of the potatoes. Every so often, her fork would scrape the plate with a soft screech, and she could see the man in front of her visibly flinch each time it happened.

Another scratch. "Damn it, woman..." Vegeta growled warningly, his teeth clenched tightly together. "If you don't stop that horrid sound..."

"Alright, alright, don't be such a baby," Bulma scolded sarcastically, taking another bite. "See? I'm eating. Happy?"

Vegeta quirked an eyebrow at her, but said nothing, simply pushing his plate to the side and folding his arms across his chest.

"You don't have to stay, you know. I think I can handle it from here." When it became painfully obvious that he wasn't moving, she shook her head and ate without complaint, not even tasting the food.

Several minutes and half a plate later, the silence was broken. Bulma's head snapped up at the sound of Vegeta's voice. "What is it?"

"What is what?"

Vegeta gave an exasperated sigh. "Whatever the hell it is you're killing yourself building up there," he replied curtly, nodding towards the stairs. "What is it?"

This time it was Bulma's turn to cock an eyebrow up. "You want to know what I'm building?"

"Dummy, I asked, didn't I?" he remarked impatiently.

"Yeah, it's just..." she began, taking a swallow of her drink to buy a few seconds, "I'm surprised you even care enough to ask."

"I don't care, woman," he corrected quickly, "but I am curious. You parents won't shut up about how preoccupied you've been since you started, and you haven't been spending as much time as usual with the brat."

Bulma immediately felt her cheeks flush at the blunt observation. How dare he accuse her of neglecting her son! She opened her mouth, fully intending on giving him one of her famous tongue lashings before she was stopped cold by the look in his eyes.

Vegeta was worried.

Suddenly the sting fell out of the comment, and her shoulders fell. "I..." She shook her head, taking several deep breaths. "It's a replica... well, not a replica, exactly, but... well, it's..." _Damn, I can't even say it!_

"Spit it out, woman."

One last steadying breath. "It's a machine similar to the one that the Trunks from the future used to come back and tell us about the androids," she admitted finally.

Vegeta blinked several times before finding his voice. "You're building WHAT?!"

"It's a time machine... sort of."

"What in hell are _you_ building one for?" Vegeta shot at her. "Unless..." Then his eyes got wide for a moment before his controlled scowl fell back into place. Bulma watched as he took several deep breaths, swallowing a few times and clenching and unclenching his fists on top of his arms. When his eyes opened, they fell on her somberly. "You can't do that."

"Why not?" Bulma questioned, her own voice suddenly scratchy as her throat constricted against the threat of her tears. "Why can't I? Goku never should have died fighting Cell, Vegeta, and if he knew about it... like he knew about the androids..."

Vegeta was already shaking his head. "You know that you can not do that. It was dangerous enough under the extreme circumstances of the other timeline. To go now and change what has happened could do irreparable damage." He leveled his gaze heavily onto hers, holding steady within it's grasp. "You know this. Do not do this to yourself. Kakarotto is dead, yes, but in nine more months, you may revive him with the Dragonballs. Until then... you must wait."

"But don't you understand?" Bulma screamed as she lept from her chair, sending it skidding behind her. "He won't come back! Even if I did try to wish him back, he won't do it! He'll refuse!"

"You know this?" Vegeta queried, honest surprised written on his face.

Bulma nodded. "He confided in me that he suspected he would die in the fight with Cell." Vegeta's eyes got even wider. "He knew, Vegeta. He knew he was no match for Cell in his perfect form. But he also knew that Gohan was, and he told me that he was prepared to die if that was what it took to unlock Gohan's power... and if he died, he planned on staying... so he could keep... tr... training!"

Vegeta and Bulma stared at each other for several minutes, Vegeta looking for any sign that Bulma was wrong or trying to deceive him, and Bulma to portray the seriousness of what happened that led her to such drastic measures to bring her life-long friend and secret love back to life. After a moment, Vegeta hissed between grating teeth. "Kakarotto, you fucking moron..."

"See? That's why I need to do this! If I could just warn him, then..."

"Then nothing, woman," Vegeta retorted sharply. "The stupid bastard would have done the same damn thing. He apparently knew what he was doing. And... if he does not wish to be brought back, then... that's Kakarotto's choice. As much as I desire the opportunity to face him again so that I can defeat him once and for all, it will not happen. We cannot make this choice for him. And you cannot tamper with the past."

"But..."

"But nothing!" Vegeta shouted, his face flushed. "You will go upstairs and destroy that damnable contraption. You will not entertain the idea of building another. Do you understand me?" Bulma simply stared, blank and uncaring. Vegeta sighed again, knowing that once Bulma hit this point, there was little anyone could do to get through to her. Still, thanks to their very unique relationship, he knew the button to push. "Do you wish to risk the well-being of Kakarotto's family, or your own for that matter, for the sake of resurrecting a man you do not even have claim to? Will you risk you son?"

Bulma's sharp intake of breath confirmed that it had worked. Then the tears began to fall. With an exasperated shake of the head, Vegeta got up and walked around the table, taking the small blue-haired woman who had given him a royal heir and had offered him her home and her friendship into his arms. "Would you prefer that I destroy it?"

Bulma shook her head against his chest, sniffling. "N... no. I'll do it. You destroy enough stuff around here."

He smirked before letting her go. Letting her go, so that she could destroy her dream with her own two hands.

"Oh God..."

Goku could only look on in sober wonderment at the predicament his friends and loved ones were in now. Gohan was being throttled constantly by Chichi in her emotional distress and anger so that the boy who had saved the planet "would not turn out like his father". He could only imagine what would happen when the new baby came. He prayed that part of her now frighteningly erratic, even for Chichi, behavior was due to her pregnancy. And then there was Vegeta... the man who had spent almost every waking and breathing moment since they met training to be better was no longer training at all. He was waiting for Kakarotto to come back. Whether it was for his rightful chance to challenge him again, or perhaps something else, Goku couldn't be sure. Goku had learned long ago that very little in life or death is more frightening than uncertainty.

Then there was Bulma...

 _Bulma..._

Clarity was a supposed gift in the afterlife, and through that, Goku had been made aware of Bulma's feelings for him being more than friendly when he died the first time. Of course, he was already married, and her feelings for him were really just more or less a bit of a longing, a what-if at that time. He had not considered that those feelings would grow, and that they would turn into an almost desperate love had been impossible.

Goku sincerely hoped the person who decided granting clarity to the dead was a good idea was burning in hell right now, sharing a room with his heart.

"Oh Bulma," he whispered to no one and everyone, to the wind that gently caressed his face even as he threatened a cardinal rule his existence, "I'm sorry. I didn't know... God, I'm sorry..."

And then the tears of an angel fell to the floor of Heaven, as Goku had no choice but to watch even as Bulma tore her own heart to pieces, her hope demolished along with the machine in front of her.

Bulma wished with everything in her at that moment that she could throw ki blasts. The machine sat in front of her, taunting her with it's promises. She bit back bitter sobs as she finally lifted her modified drill and began working to take her machine, her hope, her love, apart. She cried freely then, letting her vision blur, yet getting angry that it did so, and the trembling of her fingers only added insult to injury. In a rational state of mind, she would have realized that it was a bad idea, but in her current grief-clouded state, she did the only thing she knew to do in such a situation. She screamed and she threw.

"God damn you!" she cried into the air, throwing the device in her hand as hard as she could against the offensive panel in front of her. Then she threw her head into her hands and let her sobs overtake her thin form. Had she watched one more second, she would have seen her tool crash through the panel. She would have seen the sudden sparks and the spiking fluctuations in the power and destination grids. And she would have seen the light.

Instead all she knew was sudden, unexplainable pain.

Downstairs, Vegeta's head jerked and within moments he was up the stairs and at the door of the room where Bulma should have been. Instead, there was only a small scuff on the floor, and the smell of electricity and burnt plastic in the air. Vegeta's eyes scanned first, then his mind before he cried out in rage... and maybe a little concern. Her ki was nowhere to be found.

"Damn it, woman! What have you done?"


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

Excruciating pain.

It permeated through her entire being, from the ends of her hair to the very tips of her manicured toenails. It pulsed through her frame like a second heartbeat, lancing and searing from within and without. Bulma was certain she had never in her life experience agony such as this, and for a brief moment she wondered if this was the hell that Vegeta had feared to the point of seeking immortality through the dragon balls. Unable to scream, Bulma simply embraced the blackness that threatened her consciousness, falling into the welcomed void.

"Kaio-sama, what's happening?" Goku demanded impatiently. "Bulma's ki is gone! It vanished just like that!"

After searching, the small being simply shook his head. "I'm not sure, Goku..."

"Then find out, damn it!"

The northern kai could only watch in utter shock as Goku began alternating between pacing like a caged animal and stopping to put two fingers to his forehead, letting it furrow in desperate concentration. "She's not on Earth anymore... but she's not dead, either..." he muttered during a round of pacing. "She couldn't have gotten off planet and far enough away so fast that I wouldn't be able to sense her..."

"Uh... maybe you should... I don't know... see if Vegeta knows anything?" came the tentative and extremely soft suggestion from behind the raging Saiyajin.

"Vegeta! Of course!" Goku exclaimed. "If anything's happening, he'll know what it is..." Then Goku made himself take several cleansing breaths, forcing all outside distractions and internal fears away so that he could send his consciousness down to find the proud prince. Once he realized exactly where Vegeta was, as well as felt the bombarding sensation of the man's unusually active emotions, Goku's insides went cold.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go," he offered quickly before phasing out, leaving his companion to stare in confusion at empty space.

The small blue man blinked a few times before letting out a defeated sigh and deciding that he better do some serious investigating. He couldn't afford the risk of the destruction of yet another planet he lived on... and an enraged Goku was as destructive as you could get.

"What do you mean you can't find her?" Vegeta demanded from the trembling form before him. "You're the guardian of the planet, and you're telling me that you are unable to locate one stupid female?"

Dende's shrank back as he looked to Mr. Popo. He may have been God, but Vegeta was still Vegeta, and a furious Vegeta was enough to make anyone, God or otherwise, go running for the nearest rock to hide under.

Vegeta stalked past the small child, suppressing the urge to growl at the boy. "Damn it to hell!" he cursed to the four winds, his mind immediately running through his options. Then came the feeling that registered a fraction of a second before the voice did. Vegeta froze.

"It's not Dende's fault, Vegeta. Kaio-sama can't find her, either."

"No," Vegeta managed between clenched teeth. "No, it's not the Namek's fault," Vegeta agreed, liquid menace oozing off of his tongue as he turned to regard the dead man who had materialized only a few feet away. "It's yours, Kakarotto, so now you're going to tell me something." Vegeta's orbs of burning onyx bore into those of the man before him. "You are going to tell me exactly what you plan to do about it, and how you are going to get her back."

Goku returned the gaze of steel with a very rare one of his own, matching the intensity of the Saiyajin Prince and swallowing it defiantly. "I don't have much time, Vegeta, so you're going to first tell me exactly what happened. And I mean **everything**."

An undeterminable amount of time passed before Bulma was roused by a continuous cooling sensation on her burning cheek. It took several more minutes of simply lying still and allowing her brain time to perform the slow and steady process of functioning properly again before she could determine what the feeling was. Her hypothesis was confirmed as she heard the soft sound of the droplets of water that would leave their haven before landing on her face. Realizing that this, along with the absence of the previous torture, more than likely meant she indeed was not dead and in hell, she braved opening one heavy eyelid. The gesture did little good as she could only vaguely see outlines and shadows in the dimness of what appeared to be nightfall by her best estimate. One thing did strike her, though her still swimming head did not entertain the random thought that passed through it for very long. The room, or what was left of it, carried a strong familiarity to the woman. Of course it was quickly forgotten as a new sound drifted towards her from some distance away.

She heard voices.

"...over here somewhere..."

"... think you're crazy..."

"...can feel a small ki in there..."

"...probably an animal..."

 _Oh God..._ Bulma didn't know who these people were, or if they would be friend or foe. Unfortunately her body made her choice for her, for as much as she struggled, her wasted limbs refused to cooperate with her brain's command to move, leaving her sprawled out on her stomach on the chilled surface beneath her. Sighing in defeat, she came to quick decision. If they were friend, then the quicker they found her, the better off she would be as she had no idea what the extent of her injuries were. If they were foe, perhaps they would save her the trouble and simply kill her on sight. Her forehead furrowed in pained concentration as her throat fought to comply with her wish.

"He... help me..." The voices stopped immediately, indicating to her that, despite the low volume, they had heard something. Gritting her teeth in unfailing stubbornness, Bulma ignored the fire that grated her vocal cords as she put all of the wind she could muster through them. "Help me!"

Heavy footsteps thundered towards her, and she took in a lungful of air and immediately coughing. All sound stopped save for the hacking that was issuing itself from her, but she still knew without a doubt that the two were now standing over her.

"Who are you?" came the command from above.

Bulma tried to answer, but her throat was now completely useless. Instead, she allowed her chest to heave up and down to indicate that she was alive. Perhaps they would get the hint...

A booted toe nudged her in the side none too gently, eliciting a groan from her as white-hot agony assaulted her body once again. "She's human," the other voice observed disinterestedly, and, too her slight dismay, with barely masked disgust.

"Humans are not allowed in this area," the first voice called from above. A silent moment, then an irritated sigh. "This one's damn near dead. Roll her over and put her out of her misery."

Bulma set her jaw. She would not be weak. She would not cry. _Looks like I'll be seeing you again after all, Goku..._

The same silver-tipped boot that had nudged moments before now wedged under her stomach and with a fluid motion, had her turned onto her back, a very thin stream of light illuminating her agony-ridden features. Her eyes snapped open and she bit her lip to the point of drawing blood to avoid screaming at the rapid movement of her apparently broken body. _I will not cry... I will be with Goku... I will not cry..._

The sharp intake of breath from her executioners forced her to open her eyes once again. This time confusion filled her. It appeared that the men above were in a similar situation, though for what reason she could not possibly fathom.

"What the...?" came the first panicked response.

The second man simply stared. Then, after what seemed like an eternity of indecision, the man knelt down to look over Bulma more thoroughly, and Bulma was unable to believe the change. His fathomless eyes that had moments before held disdain and disgust were now tinted slightly with worry as he seemed to be taking a mental inventory of what he could see before him. "She needs a regen tank now," he stated simply. "Get a transport."

 _Regeneration tank... but why?_ Then the pain won against thought, and Bulma allowed her mind once again to shut down in exhaustion and exertion, and she embraced the enclosing blackness once again.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Dende and Mr. Popo both took several steps back and threw each other identical looks of budding panic. The time for explanations was over, and now that everything was out in the open, one thing was clear. Never had either of them seen the Saiyajin Prince so completely and utterly enraged as he was at that moment.

"Let me get this straight," the slighter Saiyajin seethed as energy crackled around him. "You knew how the woman felt. You knew, and instead of handling the situation, you chose to remain dead rather than let her resurrect you so that it could be dealt with."

Goku powered up instinctively even as he threw a pleading gaze to his prince. "Attacking me won't bring Bulma back any faster..."

"Perhaps not, but bashing your skull in would undoubtedly make me feel better," Vegeta snarled in reply.

"Vegeta, please calm down..."

"No, bastard! Do you have any idea what you have done?" Vegeta spat at him, his normally disinterested visage now twisted in barely checked fury. "Of course you don't, you fucking low-class idiot! Do not ever presume to accuse me of being selfish and arrogant again, Kakarotto, for you have gone far above anything I've done. You are a coward, Kakarotto, and I vow to you now, if anything happens to her, I will make damned sure to hunt you to the ends of Otherworld and when I'm finished there will be no deity in existence that will be able to salvage your body."

"I'll get her back, Vegeta," Goku stated in grim determination even as his heart almost burst within his chest at the sting of Vegeta's words. He had been a coward, and now Bulma might be paying the price for it. "I swear to you, I will find her." Goku sighed heavily. The truth was that he wasn't sure if he could save Bulma, especially since there were the small issues of her unknown whereabouts coupled with the small detail of him being dead to complicate a rescue operation. Hell, he didn't even know with certainty if she needed help... though something deep within him told him that it was imperative that she be found, and soon.

Vegeta regarded him coldly, though he seemed slightly calmer than before. "How?"

"Well, the first thing is to go back to Kaio-sama's planet..."

"How the hell are you going to do anything there?" Vegeta questioned harshly.

Goku gritted his teeth. "Look, Vegeta, I'm dead, remember? I can't just stay here on the physical plane while we look for her. Besides," he reasoned with a furrowed brow, "I can see and sense a lot more from up there. Because I belong in that realm, my abilities are the most powerful there."

Vegeta seemed to consider the statement for a moment before nodding negligibly. "Fine, then let's go."

Goku blinked several times before he could make his mouth work. "Wha... what do you mean?"

"As in you and me." Goku's shocked expression made Vegeta smirk despite his anger. "Do you really think I'm going to trust you to take care of anything? Unlike you, I am no fool, Kakarotto."

"But... but what about Trunks...?"

Vegeta snorted. "The brat is taken care of. Now quit stalling and let's go. We're wasting time talking!"

After another moment of indecision, Goku finally shrugged. "Alright." With that, he placed a hand on Vegeta's shoulder, put his fingers to his forehead, and the pair phased out.

Dende and Mr. Popo both sighed loudly. "Mr. Popo, do me a favor?"

"Of course..."

"The next time Vegeta-san shows up unexpectedly, take a message."

 **Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep...**

Bulma winced as the annoying sound assaulted her ears before she let out a relieved breath. _Thank God... it was just a dream..._ Without opening her eyes or moving any more of her body from the warmth she was surrounded by than necessary, she reached over to slam her hand on the snooze button of the alarm clock only to have her hand collide against something painfully. Her eyes shot open even as the noise finally stopped and a friendly smile came into her line of sight.

"I'm glad to see you're awake, Bulma-san," the woman stated through the glass as she began looking Bulma over and jotting notes on a clipboard.

Bulma's eyes widened slightly as she realized the barrier she hit had been the glass that surrounded her, and the warmth she was enveloped in was fluid. Memories flooded her consciousness even as the solution began draining from her nude form, making her shiver slightly. _A regenerative tank..._

Once it had gone below her mouth, Bulma began coughing vigorously as her lungs fought to remove the rest of the foreign substance from her body and replace it with fresh oxygen. By the time the tank was empty, Bulma was able to take in a normal breath without choking, though her throat and lungs were still slightly irritated. The door slid open suddenly, and Bulma trembled again as the cooler air from the room hit her dripping flesh. Then she was wrapped in a thick robe and lifted effortlessly out by a man who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Bulma instinctively tensed as the man held onto her, but she fought back the urge to struggle against him. It was quite obvious it would have had little effect, anyway. Instead, she let the man carry her to what appeared to be a medical pallet where she was placed gently before the man once again disappeared. Then the woman was there once again and began hooking up small pads in varying places on her body. The small sensors were connected to a large machine next to the bed, so Bulma assumed it was a monitor of some sort, though she knew for a fact she had never seen such a device before, confusing the blue-haired woman even more.

"How do you feel?"

The question caught Bulma off guard, so it took her a minute to do a mental inventory. "Uh... Actually, I feel fine," she answered in quiet amazement. Indeed, she didn't even have a muscle ache to show for her earlier condition. Deciding that was one less worry to bother with, she instead focused on another. "Where am I, and how did you know my name?" she asked, surveying the rest of the room. She eyed her surrounding warily, sure that there was no such place as this on Earth, and knowing without a doubt that she didn't know the tall violet-hued woman who had addressed her when she woke. _Or maybe not..._ she thought as the woman visibly blanched.

Bright platinum eyes widened. "You don't recognize me, Bulma-san?"

"No, and I'm pretty sure I would if I'd met you before," Bulma snapped irritably, her patience exhausted. "Now where the hell am I?" Bulma almost screamed in indignation when the woman shook her head frantically and ran from the room as if trying to escape. Bulma stared after her for a moment before clenching her jaw. "Fine, if no one will tell me anything, I'll find out for myself," she declared as she began ripping the sticky circles off of her body. A few tugs later, Bulma slid off the bed and squeaked when her bare feet hit the chilly tile floor, making her toes curl. Ignoring her immodest discomfort and tightening her robe around her, she took a few cautious steps before strengthening her resolve and moving to the doorway. She peered out and, seeing no one in sight, stepped tentatively in the hallway, determined to get some answers.

 _One way or another._

A thin man stood timidly outside the ornate double doors leading to the chamber within. His dread deepened as the sounds of ki blasts ricocheting off the walls met his ears. _Of course, he has to be sparring..._ Taking a deep breath, the man knocked on the door, wincing at the echo it caused.

All sound ceased and after several moments, the door opened. Narrowed eyes landed on the man and he was motioned inside with a jerk of the guard's head. The man walked in briskly, making sure not to look up until he was within a few feet of the pair who both stood rigid in the center of the room. Once there, he dropped to one knee and prayed.

"This had better be good, Laresk," the elder's voice growled sharply.

"You wanted to know as soon as we confirmed the woman's identity..."

A sharp intake of breath cut the man off and before he even realized the man had moved, he was hoisted into the air by a powerful arm as energy flickered around them both. Intense onyx eyes burned into the man, and it took every ounce of self-control Laresk had not to whimper under the scrutiny. "And?"

"It... it's her," the man stammered fearfully. "All of our genetic tests confirmed it. The woman is Bulma Brief."

The grip loosened, and the man fell heavily to the floor, only to be grabbed by the shoulders by the younger of the pair, hope blossoming within the penetrating blue gaze of the boy that held him. "You mean it? And she's okay, right?"

Before Laresk could answer, the other man cut him off. "You speak out of turn, boy..."

"But, Dad!" the boy pleaded before his father's glare stopped him cold. The excitement bled out of the cerulean eyes of the child, and the boy hung his head. "Sorry."

The scowl softened, and the taller moved to his son's side, placing a firm hand on his shoulder before looking at the doctor before him once again. "Laresk!"

"Yes, Kakarotto-sama?"

"What is her condition, and why am I still not able to sense her?"

Laresk let out a relieved breath. _Thank God for the boy..._ It was still amazing to Laresk how much the child calmed his father down by his very presence, as he remembered a time when nothing could accomplish such a task. "Well, physically she will be fine," he recited quickly. "We have yet to determine her mental condition, though it should be forthcoming... as a matter of fact," the man added as he glanced at his watch, "she should be out of the regeneration tank by now."

"Acceptable. What of the contraption that was found with her?"

"The engineers are working on it, but from what can be seen so far, I'm told it does not appear to be space-worthy," the man accounted quickly.

This time the blazing eyes narrowed dangerously. "Then someone isn't looking closely enough," Kakarotto stated softly. "She didn't just appear out of thin air, Laresk. She had to have gotten back to this planet using that pod."

Laresk immediately took a step back as his face drained of all color. "I... I will tell them to redouble their efforts!"

Kakarotto let his gaze unnerve the man for another moment before smirking. "Very good."

Laresk assumed it was time to take his leave when the taller man's back suddenly met him, but his attention was brought elsewhere as his ear communicator beeped.

Kakarotto and his son both turned to regard the dismissed man. Kakarotto was about to snap at the man, but stopped short when he noticed the man's dreadful expression. "What is it, Laresk?"

"She... she's gone, sire..." Laresk answered timidly, not daring to look at the man before him.

Kakarotto closed his eyes and took several deep breaths before speaking even as he stretched out his mind to feel the woman out. Then, for the first time since her disappearance, he smiled despite the confusion tugging at his thoughts. He still didn't know why he couldn't feel her in his mind, but it didn't change the fact that her ki was there, and now that her health was restored, he could pinpoint it easily. "I will take care of it. You have a chat with the engineers." And with that, Kakarotto walked briskly out of the room without another word, leaving Laresk and the boy alone.

"Laresk-san?"

The man looked down at the child tugging on his sleeve and smiled gently, as it always amazed him just how identical father and son looked. "Yes, Isaka-sama?"

"I don't understand," the boy stated softly even as his eyes, the only difference, for they were the eyes of his mother, questioned openly. "Where did Mom go?"

"I'm not sure," Laresk answered honestly, "but your father will find her."

End Chapter Two


	4. Chapter Three

Special thanks to BluEydMnstr for beta-ing for me!

 **Chapter Three**

Kakarotto floated briskly through the maze of corridors and crossways, his eyes glazed and unfocused and his tail making lazy sweeps every so often as he allowed his mind to guide him to his objective. Her time in the regeneration tank had obviously made the difference, for now Bulma's ki burned as bright as any morning sun he'd seen in his life, and he had seen quite a few indeed. But none could compare to the spirit of his woman. Still, there was something... different as well that he could not readily place. His brow creased deeply as he contemplated one of any number of possibilities for the change. Her ki was still brilliant, beautiful, and as familiar to him as his own, and yet...

Kakarotto gave his head a firm shake. It's as if it's out of place somehow... like it does not belong.

Of course, that was absurd, and he quickly let the strange idea fall to the back of his mind. Instead, he began going through his numerous theories as to how Bulma had managed to make it back to Earth in the small pod that was found with her in the old Capsule Corporation building without any of the planetary defense systems noting the approach or registering the sudden appearance of a ship in the atmosphere. Even stranger was that no one had reported seeing anything from the ground, and even though the contraption was small, it should have made a fire trail through the skies as well as a point of impact when landing considering the lack of a landing gear. Neither of those were present, adding more questions still. To the best of his knowledge, which happened to be fairly extensive in the area of inter-planetary aeronautical technology, the ship seemed to be Earth-jin in design and operation, but the roughly sketched blueprint he had examined upon her arrival was unlike anything he was aware of ever having been developed. That simple fact in itself made the entire thing quite a mystery, for nothing happened without his knowledge. Especially when it concerned the security of his planet. Kakarotto did not dismiss the possibility that the ship could contain some type of stealth technology that Bulma had been forced to create just to escape the newly conquered planet she had been stranded on. He knew better than anyone outside of her own scientific team that the woman was a genius in the field of engineering and she was well known for making miracles happen when necessity demanded it.

Still, how had she managed to create such an elaborate machine without being detected? The question bothered him immensely. She had been gone for over a year, and building such a machine would not have been a small nor an easy task, even for his blue-haired mate. Perhaps she had found an ally who assisted in her efforts? But if that was so, why not bring them with her when she returned? They would have been treated like royalty, rewarded beyond plausible conception...

A small price to pay.

Kakarotto pushed the useless speculation to the back of his mind as he closed his eyes once again, searching both outwardly and inwardly for Bulma. Her ki burned as surely as ever, but the place within his mind and soul that had belonged to her - the place that should have been overflowing with her spirit - was nothing but the raw, aching void he'd known for far too long, and he instinctively forced his consciousness away from it. Remaining close to the tattered hole was to become consumed with the emptiness, and he could not afford to die.

His lips curved ever so slightly. Not yet, anyway.

His musings were cut short by the sudden realization that she was just beyond the next doorway, and he forced his heart to remain beating at a normal rate, his feet still an inch above the floor, allowing him to approach entirely undetected. He realized that he was smiling at both the irony of her choice of location as well as Laresk's stupidity in not realizing that this would be where she would go no matter what her medical condition may be. Bulma had always preferred to work without distraction, making the secondary engineering bay her home away from home. It had been so for as long as he had known her.

He turned the corner and was surprised that the lights had not been turned on, considering the woman was extremely particular when it came to having a well-lit work area. His curiosity didn't last long, however, as he took in the image of the woman he had long ago accepted he would never see alive again. His brow creased as he watched her frantically pound on the defenseless keypad in front of her, oblivious to his presence filling the doorway just a few feet away. The strange feeling surfaced again in a rush, but this time with even greater intensity, and Kakarotto could only watch and wonder. Something was definitely... off, and yet he could not place it.

Bulma... what happened to you?

"Damn it!" Bulma cursed through clenched teeth as the blasted computer simply blinked at her. She had tried everything she could think of to start it up, but it required some type of authorization, and she had no idea as to how to bypass it when she didn't even know what it was looking for in the first place.

She glanced once again at the data sheets in front of her. She had been lucky enough to pass a large technical station during her exploration of the enormous structure, and upon discovering numerous printouts that had been compiled using data from her time machine, she had made a grab for them before the person who had left the information unguarded had returned. Then she had searched out the first unoccupied room available with the equipment she would need to decipher the complicated lines of code.

Figures I'd pick a room where the fucking computers won't work!

Even without the aid of a computer, Bulma was able to make out enough to tell her that something had gone terribly wrong. According to the information in front of her, the time grid had not been initiated, which meant that it would have been impossible to go anywhere - past, present, or future. And yet it was clear that the machine had completed a journey of some sort.

"Damn! I could have just let Vegeta blast the thing , but nooo," she went on under her breath, rubbing her palms roughly over her cheeks, "I had to do it myself. What the hell was I thinking? I swear, if I can figure out how to get back home, I'll even apologize to the arrogant bastard. Hell, I'll even admit he was right, that building the time machine to save Goku was a bad idea in the first place..." She stopped for a moment and allowed herself a bitter laugh at the picture of the ouji's smug face in her mind.

Then the room was flooded with light, and Bulma jumped as a small group of men, apparently security staff considering the uniforms, rushed into the room followed closely by two men in white lab coats and the woman she had seen when she had first woken up in the strange place. Bulma pushed herself against the console she had been hammering at only moments before, tightening her robe around her small frame and preparing to make a bolt for the opposite door if anyone got too close.

The taller of the two men in white stepped forward. "Bulma-san..."

"Get away from me!" she screamed, grabbing the first thing within her blind grasp and throwing it at the approaching man. She was rewarded with a loud 'thud' as it hit him squarely in the forehead, sending him back several steps.

Bulma smirked. Bet that's gonna leave a mark.

"Please, Bulma-san," the woman pleaded with outstretched arms, though Bulma noted with grim satisfaction that she didn't try to approach. "Let us take you back to your room, Bulma-san. You... you're injured..."

"No, I'm fine," Bulma spat back indignantly. "I was in a regeneration tank for God-only-knows-how-long, remember? I'm fit as a fucking fiddle. My problem is that no one would tell me where the hell I am or how it is that you all seem to know me so well." She regarded each individual coldly. "Does anyone want to answer that? If not, then I'm not going anywhere."

Several of the men seemed to confer softly to each other before the shorter of the two in the front sighed. "Let us take you back to your room, Bulma-san. We'll talk there after you've rested..."

"No!"

The man sighed visibly, shoulders slumping slightly. "Forgive me, then, but you've given us no choice." He motioned with a short nod, and the group of security men approached quickly to surround the frightened woman.

"Don't touch me!" Bulma didn't even look before she bolted full speed for the closest exit... and smacked headlong into a wall of cloth and flesh. She struggled for only a moment as a strong arm wrapped tightly around her body, pinning her arms to her sides in an iron grasp. Then came the voice, freezing Bulma in her tracks along with everyone else in the room.

"She said not to touch her," the voice stated tightly even as the grip loosened slightly in reaction to her sudden lack of movement.

The violet hued woman balked, her large eyes impossibly wide. "Kakarotto-sama! We... forgive us... we did not see you..."

Kakarotto?

Bulma's eyes almost popped out of her head. Kakarotto was Goku's birthname, which meant...

Bulma felt the chest she was resting against emit a soft growl before the sound actually reached her ears. "Apparently not. Did Laresk not inform you that I would take care of this?"

"H... yes, but we thought..." the woman stammered helplessly before being cut off again.

"Get out," came the command from above her. When no one seemed to move, another louder growl came. "Do not make me repeat myself," came the soft, yet undeniable warning.

Bulma took a steadying breath as the sound of retreating footsteps filled the room until all that was left was an eerie silence, save for the strong heartbeat Bulma could hear pounding within the warm body that held her. It wouldn't be true. It couldn't be... Her brain did not even begin to consider the odd fact that Vegeta was the only person that ever addressed Goku with his Saiyajin designation. It was all she could do to simply remain coherent as she forced herself to push back just enough to raise her face. The arm around her granted her silent request and fell away, moving to cross over the other arm that appeared against a strong torso.

Bulma stepped back, yet she could not make herself look up. Oh God... it can't be... it just can't... Bulma found herself taking another tentative retreating step, but this time her progress was halted by a furry brown tail that wound its way around her waist, holding her firmly in place from its resting place at the small of her back. Then one of the large hands moved forward, cupping her chin firmly. She allowed the hand to guide her face upwards until her disbelieving cerulean eyes were met in a gaze of blazing midnight.

Oh my God...

It was the last thing her brain processed before the adrenaline rush gave out, leaving her completely spent as blackness consumed her. She did not feel the pair of arms that grabbed her as she fell forward limply, nor did she hear the sorrowful sigh of the man as he positioned her carefully in his grasp before carrying the now unconscious woman out of the room.

"What the fuck is taking so long?"

Goku turned with a raised eyebrow to the Saiyajin Prince. "Chill out, Vegeta. Kaio-sama's doing everything he can right now." Goku allowed himself a small grin as the prince continued to pace like a caged lion. "You need to relax before you have the first Saiyajin aneurysm."

A thought suddenly occurred to Vegeta, and he stopped moving and regarded the younger full-blooded Saiyajin suspiciously. "I've been meaning to ask you something, Kakarotto, and I want an honest answer." Goku nodded for Vegeta to continue, leaning his large form against a tree. Vegeta waited for him to seem settled before standing opposite of him, arms folded tightly over his chest. "You've changed," the man stated as he eyed Goku carefully. "And not just in strength or skill. You appear to be more..." Vegeta stopped. What was it that seemed so different?

"Intelligent," Goku supplied, earning a minutely surprised glance from Vegeta. Then the indifferent mask fell back into place, and Goku continued. "yes, I guess you could say that. A bit wiser, at least." Goku cocked his head slightly, onyx eyes shining. "Disappointed?"

Vegeta snorted, though he couldn't help the smirk that formed on his lips. "I could not care less. You will always be a low-class Fool to me. We would not be in our current situation if not for you."

Goku's eyes dropped, and his mouth fell into a grim line. "Yeah, I know."

"There you are!"

Both Saiyajins jumped up, turning towards the small figure approaching them. Goku raced forward, meeting the man halfway with hopeful eyes. "Kaio-sama! Have you found anything?"

"No, but I do have an idea," the blue being stated smugly, antennae twitching madly. "Follow me." Then he turned, lifting off the ground

Goku and Vegeta glanced at each other before Goku shrugged, taking to the air. Vegeta growled once before launching himself into the air as well and taking a place next to Goku.

"Where the hell is he taking us?" Vegeta questioned sharply, scowling at the form leading them before scanning the area around them with narrowed eyes.

"Dunno," Goku replied, "but don't worry. I'm sure wherever we're going, it'll help us find Bulma. Just have some patience."

Vegeta growled tightly. "Bastard, you forget who you are talking to."

Goku shrugged indifferently at the man beside him, not bothering to look at him directly. "yes. Must be the fool in me."

"Hn."

Her words played through his mind again and again, and the more he considered them, the more uneasy he became. Had she said anything else, he would have killed her immediately as a spy, a clone sent to infiltrate his home and confuse his mind. But that was not the case, of that he was certain. "But it is the only thing I know for certain."

I could have just let Vegeta blast the thing...

Kakarotto kicked his invisible opponent violently in jaw even as his full attention focused on his inner musings.

Vegeta.

That was a name he had not heard in a long time, let alone falling from the lips of his mate... or whatever the woman was.

He remembered his first and last meeting with the Saiyajin Prince vividly, and he snarled despite himself as the scene played itself out in his mind's eye. Another kick to the side of the head wiped the smug smirk right off the dead bastard's face. Of course he had told her about the man after the battle was over and done, but the fact remained that his Bulma never personally met Vegeta - thank God -and yet the woman in the lab had spoken as though... "She spoke as though she knew him well," he commented softly, his mind a tangled mass of uncertainty.

Perhaps his first impression had been correct after all. Perhaps she was... out of place. "But how can that be?"

I swear, if I can figure out how to get back home, I'll even apologize to the arrogant bastard...

"So where is home, Onna?" Kakarotto asked breathlessly as he worked through a series of jabs and kicks. "If it is really you..." Kakarotto stopped and wiped his large hands over his sweat-streaked features before turning to regard the small woman lying in the large canopy bed only feet away. The first thing he had done after placing her gently into their bed was to find Laresk and collect the genetic tests that had been run the moment she was brought in. As the man had claimed earlier, the tests proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was indeed Bulma. But there was one distinct difference that no test would have picked up on, and it was one he had not noticed until after Laresk was gone again and he had time to look the woman over. She was beautiful - completely smooth, completely unblemished...

Completely unmarked.

Kakarotto realized that his hand had moved to his neck, strong fingers tracing over the textured surface that bore his mate's claim on him. Even after her death, the scar had not faded. Her death...

"My mate is dead," he repeated out loud as though that simple statement would cause everything to fall into place. Instead it sent a wave of grief barreling through his soul, so strong that it almost brought the imposing figure watching the woman to his knees. He opted instead to squeeze his eyes together tightly, fisting his hands into his unruly locks. "But if you are not my mate, then who are you?"

I'll even admit he was right, that building the time machine to save Goku was a bad idea in the first place...

Kakarotto forced his mind to clear. That was the key, he knew. She mentioned a time machine... Part of his mind immediately began working through calculations as the other focused on the last piece of the puzzle.

...building the time machine to save Goku...

He took the short strides necessary to close the distance between himself and the sleeping woman. Her face was like an angel, totally at peace. The slow and rhythmic movement of her chest under the thick blanket was strangely comforting, he realized with a small smile as he seated himself as unobtrusively as possible at the edge of the bed.

...Goku...

He brought his hand to her cheek, his fingers tracing lightly along the delicate features. "Were you anyone else, I would have killed you for saying that name aloud," he chided softly, "and yet I don't know who you are at all, do I?"

A soft sigh escaped through slightly parted lips, and Kakarotto moved with lightning speed from his perch on the bed, cursing himself silently. He could not allow himself to touch the woman again. Especially if the possibility he was beginning to consider turned out to be true. If that was the case, if this Bulma really was 'misplaced' in time somehow, then she would have to be returned to her rightful place. If he made even one mistake and allowed himself to get too close to her... He knew deep within himself that he could not - would not - survive if he had to lose her again.

End Chapter Three


	5. Chapter Four

Special thanks to BluEydMnstr for beta-ing!

 **Chapter Four**

Vegeta had had enough. "Kakarotto, where the hell is he taking us? We've been flying for hours!"

Goku turned to regard the seething prince patiently. "I don't know," he admitted as open curiosity played across his face.

"Don't tell me you don't know, Fool!" Vegeta commanded sharply. "Ask him!"

"Alright, alright!" Goku conceded with a shrug. "Hang on a sec."

He left the prince behind in a blaze of light as he increased his power to catch up to the lead figure. Once he reached him, Goku twisted onto his side. "Kaio-sama! Where are we going? I think Vegeta's about to blow a gasket..."

King Kai didn't bother turning his pudgy head. He simply pointed. "There."

Goku blinked once before he moved his gaze in that direction. Then he saw it. "Vegeta!" he shouted to the man behind him.

Vegeta's head snapped up, and his eyes immediately fixed on a point in the distance. What the hell?

The nondescript gray platform, no more than five square meters by Vegeta's best estimate, floated in complete contrast to the sunset-like color scheme that seemed to surround everything in Otherworld. He pushed his own speed up and as he got closer, he scanned the makeshift island in the sky with growing fury. It was plain, and it was completely bare. Not so much as a marker or anything!

Goku and the Northern Kai landed. Goku took a few steps, looking around in wonder as the small blue deity waited, a look of utter satisfaction all over his round, cobalt-hued face.

"Wow, Kaio-sama! You can see everything from here!"

Vegeta was not nearly as impressed as his feet touched down on the smooth stone surface. He stalked up to the creature who led them to such a useless place with clenched fists. "This is what we came all this way for? To stand on a fucking ledge?"

"Vegeta!"

"No, bastard!" Vegeta spat at Goku as a vein bulged from his forehead, narrowed onyx eyes glaring death at the pair before him. "I'm already fated to go to HFIL, so I owe nothing to anyone here! Do not presume to chastise me for not respecting this bulbous blue Fool after he leads us halfway through Otherworld for nothing!"

"Tsk, tsk," King Kai scolded lightly. "I thought you wanted to help Bulma, but if not..."

Goku winced, as he could almost hear Vegeta grate his teeth together. "C'mon, Vegeta, let Kaio-sama speak. I'm sure there's a good reason why we're here," Goku pleaded as he jumped between an enraged Saiyajin prince and the much weaker Kai. He turned to the smaller of the two quickly. "Right?"

"Of course there's a good reason!" the little man declared with an indignant huff. "This is the exact center of Otherworld," he declared proudly as he made a grand, sweeping gesture with stubby arms.

"So?" Vegeta cut in, smirking as the swollen chest of the being deflated a bit.

Goku scratched his head in confusion before it finally hit him. "I get it!" he cried out triumphantly, the infamous Son grin plastered on his face. "If this is the exact middle of Otherworld, then I should be able to use my Instant Transmission technique to pinpoint Bulma's location anywhere in the universe! Then I just zip over, grab her, and voila!"

Vegeta balked. "You... you mean you can find her no matter where she is?"

"Yep."

"Then what the hell are you waiting for?" Vegeta demanded. "Find her now!"

"Okay!" Goku shouted before turning his back to the older Saiyajin. "Jeez, you don't have to yell at me, you know." Goku drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting his consciousness clear before pushing it outward. "This may take a little while. The universe is a pretty big place..."

Vegeta cursed under his breath in several different languages before he allowed the younger man the silence he would need to concentrate on finding the blue-Yesred woman's ki signature.

King Kai watched the pair with a knowing grin. For only a moment, he allowed himself to wonder how the proud Saiyajin Prince would react if he knew that Goku had been watching him off and on over the past few months since his death, and knew that Vegeta had been just as lost as everyone else.

"Maybe Goku will tell him someday. I don't want to be the one to do it, that's for sure!"

Bulma groaned softly as she fought to hold onto the pleasant blanket of sleep she was slowly emerging from. She wanted so much to go back to her dream where, even as a group of strangers threatened to capture her, Goku once again appeared at the perfect moment to save her. Just like the old days.

"Goku..." she murmured softly as she pulled the pillow from under her head to crush it against her chest tightly. It was strange, that even in her dream she could almost smell the soft musky scent of him around her. "God, Goku... I've missed you so much," she whispered as a single tear escaped through her eyelashes and pooled at the bridge of her nose. Instinctively, she tried to blink it back, and in doing so, brought herself completely out of her comforting slumber. With a soft sigh, Bulma allowed herself to wake up as she stretched languidly. The soft silken sheets caressed her skin lightly, almost tickling her which brought a small smile to her graceful lips even though she allowed her eyes to remain closed.

Wait a minute! I don't sleep on silk sheets...

"Vegeta must have laid me down in his bed," she reasoned as she ran her hands over her face. "Lazy bastard... my room's only a few doors down."

A soft growl from the foot of the bed answered her musings, and Bulma couldn't help but chuckle. Aw, he even stayed to look after me...

"Don't growl at me, monkey boy. You know it's true," she stated with a sleepy grin. Her bleary eyes worked slowly to focus in the dimly lit room. "You used to train for fourteen hours straight under 450 G's, but you can't take the ten extra steps needed to put me in my own room."

"I think you've mistaken me for someone else."

Bulma's eyes shot open. That voice...

"Goku?" Bulma jumped up only to have a wave of vertigo overcome her. She swayed before a strong arm steadied her from behind her back. It gave her enough time to focus her sight, though it didn't last long. As soon as she made out his face, her eyes brimmed with tears of unfathomable joy that distorted her eyesight once again.

It didn't matter; she'd know that form anywhere.

"Oh my God... it wasn't a dream!" she cried as the fathomless black eyes looked down at her. "You're here! You're really here!" she exclaimed. Dizziness forgotten, Bulma latched onto the man's neck like a vise as she sobbed into his shoulder. "I can't believe... it's really... you... you're here..."

"Bulma," her savior answered tightly as calloused hands wrapped around her arms and drew her back gently. "Let go of me."

Bulma pulled back just enough to look up into the man's face and nod once. "You're right... we've got to get out of here," she stated as her eyes darted around the enormous room. "God, Goku, you have no idea how scared I was!" she exclaimed as her mind replayed the past few hours quickly. "This place is huge, and all these people kept acting like they knew me, and..." She shook her head quickly, banishing the wayward thoughts. "I'll tell you about it later. Let's go before someone catches us!" When he didn't move, Bulma scowled. "Well? What are you waiting for?" I know you're not scared of a fight, but I'd rather not be in the middle of it, thank you very much!"

"I suggest you calm down," he replied quietly as he backed away from her. "No one will hurt you here, and we have much to discuss."

"So you know where we are?" The man nodded, and Bulma let herself blow out a relieved sigh. "Thank God..." With her nerves calmed somewhat, Bulma finally gave herself the chance to look over the man for the first time in months. "Well, you still look great," she noted with a grin as she took in the sharp features of the man's face surrounded by ebony spikes that jutted haphazardly about. "Wow, and you decided to wear one of the sets of Saiyajin armor, too."

Narrowed onyx eyes widened. "Of course... What else would I wear?"

Bulma chuckled and rolled her eyes even as her heart sped up in reaction to the thin layer of stretchy material that molded to every dip and curve of the man's flawless physique . "Well, duh! Your orange gi thing. God, you really are a Fool sometimes..."

"Nani?"

"Hey, wait a minute!" Bulma cried out as realization hit her. Her cheeks flushed softly as sapphire eyes became no more than glittering slits. "Damn it, I should have known!"

"Known what?" the man questioned defensively as he took another step back at the outburst.

"There's only one reason you ever wear that get-up." Bulma scowled. "I can't believe this! This is so typical of you, you know that?" she bellowed incredulously at the thoroughly confused Saiyajin.

"What...?"

"Here I was, scared to death and running from God-knows-who, and instead of rescuing me, you were sparring with Vegeta!" Beautiful angular features became even more drawn as he balked at her. Bulma snorted in self-satisfaction. "Don't give me that look, mister. You seem to forget who you're talking to, buddy. You thought I wouldn't figure it out, huh? Well, I did, and I hope you're ashamed of yourself! I swear, Goku..."

"Damn it, woman, do you ever shut up?" he spat out suddenly.

Bulma blinked. Twice. "What's wrong? I was just kidding, really..." She gave him her best disarming smile. "Come on, Goku, you know I could never stay mad at you..."

The strong jaw clenched several times. "Don't call me that," he hissed sharply.

"Huh? Call you what? All I said was Go-,"

"That!" he answered, cutting her off with a sharp glare.

Bulma's brow creased deeply. Something was wrong, and the feeling made the blood in Bulma's body run cold. The only time she had ever witnessed such a look from her benevolent best friend was when he was about to fight an enemy. It had never been directed to anyone he cared about, especially not at herself. "What... what is it? Why are you looking at me like that?"

His eyes closed for a moment before opening up once again to regard her indifferently. "My name is not Goku," he explained with a slight grimace. "I am Kakarotto."

"What?" Bulma asked timidly, her eyes growing impossibly wide.

"I am not who you believe me to be," he continued quietly. "This place," he motioned around him, "is my home. I am not sure how you came here, but it is obvious that you do not belong, and until you tell me exactly what happened, I am unable to help you return."

"But, Kakarotto... that's your Saiyajin name," she commented more to herself than to the man standing in front of her. "And if you're not my Goku, then..." she stopped as her mind whirled out of control. "How? I don't understand..." Bulma managed out even as her building fear threatened to overwhelm her mind.

It seemed the man who called himself Kakarotto noticed, for his face softened slightly. "Neither do I."

He knew it should not matter whether this woman was afraid of him. Yet it did. "You have nothing to fear from me," Kakarotto stated honestly as he watched the color drain from the woman's already pallid face.

Bewildered blue orbs fell to the floor. "That's easy for you to say. You're not the one who's being told her best friend isn't the guy he's supposed to be. Sure, I know my Goku would never hurt me, but..."

"Neither will I," Kakarotto interrupted impatiently. "If I wished to harm you, you would be dead right now."

Bulma seemed to consider the logic for a moment before she allowed herself to relax slightly. "Maybe, but it doesn't change the fact that instead of being the sweet guy I know, you're telling me you are a cruel, heartless Saiyajin!"

"And what do you know about Saiyajins?" Kakarotto asked, genuinely intrigued. The woman he had known in his time had little experience with them, so to hear her speak with such disgust regarding his race was slightly disconcerting.

The lovely woman huffed indignantly. "Well, aside from you and Vegeta, and God knows that Vegeta's still a work in progress, Saiyajins are all a bunch of blood-thirsty barbarians!" she declared. "They're all the same. Radditz, that big guy Nappa, Turles..."

Kakarotto almost choked. "Nani? You've met them?"

"Yeah, well, Radditz kind of met us," Bulma explained with a shrug. "And then after you... I mean Goku and Piccolo defeated..."

How can this be? She's met all of them! But... how?

"...Nappa and Vegeta came..."

"Enough," Kakarotto commanded as he ran a hand over his weary eyes. "It's quite obvious that there are some significant differences in your time and mine," he explained slowly, "and I don't believe discussing them will do any good. I am more interested in how you came to be here."

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Bulma spat out defensively. "I was just taking apart the time machine and I got mad and I was crying and I... I..."

Kakarotto raised an inquisitive eyebrow as the woman faltered. "And what?"

"Well... I sort of... threw my drill at it," she mumbled into her chest as an embarrassed blush crept its way across her delicate features.

Kakarotto found himself completely speechless for several moments. When he finally collected himself, it took every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep his face straight. "Let me make sure I heard you correctly. You... threw your drill... at the machine?" Bulma nodded, though she still refused to look back up at him, making the situation too much for him to handle any longer. "So what you're saying is that you ended up here because you threw a hissy fit," he stated tightly.

Bulma was about to argue with the demeaning observation when the sound of laughter burst out, echoing loudly within the walls around them. Bulma's face shot up at the all-too familiar sound she had missed since Goku's death. She was powerless to do anything but stare as the carbon copy of her heart's keeper laughed so much that his eyes glistened brightly with moisture and both powerful arms were clutched tightly around his waist. That simple scene bled itself into her frightened mind and washed any anxiety she had away, and after another moment, she found that she, too, was chuckling lightheartedly at the idea. Through her giggles, Bulma managed to put on a small scowl. "It wasn't a hissy fit!" she cried out, though the effect was lost as soon as the smile broke through the mock indignation.

Kakarotto smirked in response. "Of course it wasn't," he retorted playfully, throwing her a knowing look as he calmed himself down with several deep breaths.

"Hmph, don't give me that look! What do you know?" Bulma shot back with a grin. "You're not Goku, so that means you don't know a thing about me."

The innocent statement brought Kakarotto crashing back to reality, and he stiffened immediately as he realized just how much he had let himself go. He couldn't even remember the last time he had laughed like that. No, he corrected himself silently. He remembered exactly when the last time was. It had been the last time he had seen his mate alive.

Damn it, what the hell is wrong with me?

"Hey, what's wrong, Go- I mean, Kakarotto? You look like someone just died or something."

Kakarotto shook himself out of it and put the uncaring mask firmly back into place. "We don't have time to play games," he answered sharply. Pushing all unnecessary thoughts away, Kakarotto brought his full attention back to the problem at hand. "Are you sure that the machine was functional?"

"Yeah, but it hadn't been tested or anything, so maybe one of the boards overloaded or something," Bulma responded softly as her own mind began working through the data she remembered from her earlier adventures in the strange place. "It doesn't make sense, though. I mean, I saw what you guys pulled from the databanks, and it didn't show any sign of traveling through time at all."

Kakarotto nodded once. "I noticed the lack of destination as well, though at the time I did not realize what system that information came from. We were approaching our investigation from an inter-planetary standpoint. Now that I know what that craft actually is, the data makes more sense."

Bulma balked openly. "Who's 'we'? I mean... you didn't actually understand the stuff on those sheets, did you?"

"To answer your first question, 'we' is Earth's engineering and technology team," Kakarotto replied. "And yes, I understood most of it, though some of the variables seemed to be inconsistent with a normal spacecraft. Of course, now I know why that was, don't I?"

"Oh God," Bulma breathed as she ran a shaky hand through her shoulder length aqua hairr, "that's too weird."

"This whole damnable situation is weird," he stated frankly. Kakarotto took several steps around the room as his mind worked to formulate a plan of some sort. "I suppose we should first determine exactly where you are in relation to where you should be," he reasoned to himself, though he knew the woman would hear him as well.

Bulma shrugged. "You got a calendar around here?"

Kakarotto looked at Bulma in mild surprise before motioning for her to follow him with a quirk of his head. He turned and walked out, forcing her to jump from the bed and run to catch up to him. By the time she did, he had already made it to the his destination, a small computer terminal embedded in the stone wall of the adjoining room.

Bulma watched, her curiosity at the unique technology getting the best of her, as Kakarotto placed his palm along a clear surface just to the right of the keypad. A soft red glow circled his outstretched fingers even as the once solid plate became fluid, surrounding Kakarotto's digits and molding itself against his hand. A diagram of the palm print etched slowly onto the monitor before it performed an action similar to connect the dots, forming lines between specific points along the three dimensional image. Then the computer blinked to life, a soft feminine voice stating that it was ready for the user's request.

"Wow, it actually worked..." she breathed in unabashed awe at the high-tech user identification system. She herself had toyed with the idea of something almost identical to what she had just witnessed, but between the new baby and the ordeal with the various androids, she had put the budding project on hold. "Hey, Kakarotto, who created that thing?" she asked suddenly, though deep down, she already knew. It was just too damned similar to be anything else, and considering so many scientists and doctors had recognized her...

Kakarotto grinned as he noticed the expectant look on her beautiful face. "You did."

"Cool." Then with a hand on her hip, Bulma raised one thin eyebrow up to regard the tall Saiyajin beside her. "Nice to know my talents are properly recognized. I wonder how many other ingenious and otherwise noteworthy effects I've had here?" She watched as Kakarotto thought over the question for several moments before turning his bottomless onyx gaze on her, the raw intensity stealing her breath away as he voiced a truth she had yet to comprehend.

"More than you would ever know."

End Chapter Four


	6. Chapter Five

_Once again, much love and special sauce to BluEydMnstr for beta-ing for me!_

 **Chapter Five**

For the first time in years, Bulma Brief was speechless. She wasn't sure what shocked her more: the information in front of her, or the man that stood by her side with a watchful gaze. He didn't look surprised in the least, and that fact alone irritated her. Since when did Son-kun figure something out before she did? So what if this guy wasn't actually Goku... it was the principle of the thing! **She** was the genius! **She** was the one who should have been nodding in quiet understanding while he chuckled and scratched the back of his head like he always did when he had no clue what was going on. It just wasn't right!

It didn't help that she had absolutely no idea how the whole situation was even possible to begin with.

"So I assume that answers our first question," Kakarotto commented softly from his place at her side.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded impatiently as she spun to face him. "This doesn't answer anything, Go- damn it! Whatever the hell your name is..."

"Kakarotto."

Bulma glared daggers at the Saiyajin, mumbling a sarcastic 'I knew that' under her breath before turning back to the blasphemous monitor. "There is absolutely no way this can be right!" she snapped. "It's... it's..."

"Impossible," Kakarotto supplied flatly as he ran one hand over his face in quiet exasperation. The woman was as thick-headed as she ever was, that was for damned sure! _And just as loud..._

"Yes! Yes, it's completely and totally impossible. There is just no way!"

Kakarotto made sure to keep his mouth straight and his voice as neutral as possible. "Perhaps you've forgotten how to read a Saiyajin calendar, eh? Should I pull up the Earth program instead?"

Bulma eyes widened as her face turned the loveliest rose hue Kakarotto had ever seen. "Of course I can read a Saiyajin calendar, you jerk! How dare you-" she screamed indignantly.

"Then you see the same thing I do," he responded calmly, effectively cutting her rant short with the soft, yet unmistakably commanding tone he was known for in his time. He leaned his shoulder against the stone wall, crossing his arms over his armor-clad chest and held the fuming woman before him silent with a penetrating stare. "You told me the date of your 'accident'," he drawled the last word for effect, earning him an evil scowl from Bulma before he continued, "and it matches that on the printout from your ship. Both correspond exactly with the date my guards found you in the ruins of the old Capsule Corporation building."

"But-" Bulma froze. The building... the room she had been in. She hadn't thought of it since she was found, that the room she had been in had seemed familiar to her. She turned to face the look-alike once again, this time in shock. "The **old** Capsule Corporation building?"

"Correct. If memory serves, you were in what was, at one time, the second floor laboratory of the main residence," Kakarotto informed her evenly as he noted the surprise and fear that danced over her features before he realized that this Bulma would have no idea what had happened to the place. It also hit him that he hadn't considered before saying those words that her father's brainchild might still be going strong in her version of the present. "I'm sorry, Bulma. I should not have said anything. I wasn't aware of how it would affect you," he explained after a moment's consideration.

Bulma swallowed nervously. "What happened to it?"

Kakarotto regarded the azure-eyed woman for several tense seconds before answering. "There was a large battle several years ago, and much of the city was destroyed before I was able to stop the ones responsible," he answered as vaguely, yet as honestly as possible. "Instead of rebuilding it, I moved the surviving personnel and equipment here."

"Oh."

"It is not important," Kakarotto stated, snapping Bulma out of her trance. "I believe returning you to where you belong takes priority over a history lesson on a world you are not part of."

Bulma closed her eyes with a soft sigh. Kakarotto was right. Facts were facts, and those facts pointed conclusively to the unlikely scenario that she had somehow managed to land herself in an alternate version of her own time.

And now she had to find a way to get home.

"Damn it," she cursed softly. "I don't even know where to begin," she admitted after another moment.

Kakarotto, to her slight annoyance, seemed completely unworried. He shrugged once lightly. "It should not be difficult for you to find out how you were transported here. I will take you to the bay where the ship is being held so that you can assess any damage and make the necessary repairs..."

Bulma shook her head, soft blue tresses swaying gently with the movement. "You don't understand! See, I made that thing off of a blueprint that was stored in my father's computer. I just made a replica, basically. I... I didn't even totally understand how the thing worked."

"You mean that it's not your original design?" Kakarotto questioned sharply, disbelief written deeply into his stern features. "You were going to use something you didn't even understand the mechanics of?"

Bulma's anger began to build once again at his indignant expression. "Yes, it's my design!" she shouted, making Kakarotto wince slightly, "but I was a lot older and had more experience with the technology when I made it the first time! Hell, I'd been working on the thing for years!"

Kakarotto blinked several times. "What do you mean, you were older when you made it the first time? You're not making any sense. How could you have been older-" Then it hit him. "A version of yourself from the future created this thing and successfully traveled back in time."

"My son, actually," she corrected softly. The mention of the lavender-haired baby reminded her of how much she had begun to miss him, as well as the young man from the future who had returned to his own time only a few weeks earlier.

"Excuse me?"

Bulma pushed the wayward thoughts aside with a loud sigh. "I designed the machine in the future, but my son was the one to use it. Trunks made two successful trips, three years apart. My data came from the pod he used the second time."

Kakarotto wanted to know more about the son Bulma spoke so longingly of, as well as several other bits of information about her life in her time but forced himself to ignore the nagging questions in his mind. It did not matter. Besides, he decided silently, it appeared that there would be ample time to talk about such things. From the way the woman spoke, it might be a while before they would figure out how to return her to her proper place. He glanced at the time and realized that it was much later than he had realized, and there was still one thing he had to take care of before he could retire for the night, no matter how unpleasant it would be. "It is late," Kakarotto remarked, getting the young woman's attention. "I'll have Laresk prepare a room for you for the night. We will continue in the morning."

As if on cue, a soft knock rang through the room, causing Bulma to jump. Kakarotto smirked at her before walking to the door and opening it.

"Kakarotto-sama, I-" he stopped short when he saw the woman. "I-I beg your pardon, Bulma-san, I did not mean to intrude..."

"Have a room readied for Bulma," Kakarotto interrupted firmly.

Laresk's brow furrowed slightly. "A room? I don't understand, Kakarotto-sama. Why-"

"Show her to a spare room," he repeated in annoyance, "and once you have, you will come back here immediately. I will explain then."

"Of course, Kakarotto-sama!" Laresk bowed deeply. "Would you prefer her to sleep in the adjoining chamber?"

Kakarotto turned to see Bulma's reaction and found her staring blankly back. "Yes, I suppose that would be best," he decided at last as his attention went back to the man before him.

"As you command," Laresk replied with another bow. "I will have it readied at once." He turned and pushed a button on the small device on his belt.

Bulma shook herself out of her daze in time to hear the man Kakarotto called Laresk talk quietly into a long, thin device that had extended from the contraption he wore on his left ear.

After several moments, the man turned back to smile at the woman watching him. "Come with me," he offered as he made his way towards a door to the right.

Bulma glanced at Kakarotto one last time. He relieved her fears slightly when he gave her a small smile and a nod. "If you need anything at all, Laresk will attend to it," he assured her smoothly.

"Okay." Bulma allowed herself to relax as she followed behind the wiry man to the door and offered him a thankful grin as he opened it and motioned for her to enter. As an afterthought, Bulma looked back one last time to Kakarotto. It was the first time she had the chance to just watch him, and she felt the familiar tug in her stomach. He was so much like Son-kun... yet he was completely different at the same time. It was strange to see the man she had known since her teens stripped of the innocent air her Goku had carried throughout his life.

 _I wonder what happened to make him turn out like this._

Even though his back was already to her and she spoke very softly, she knew he would hear her.

"Goodnight, Kakarotto."

The powerful shoulders stiffened slightly. "Get some rest. I think tomorrow will prove to be a long day."

Bulma shrugged inwardly before she turned and left the man, deciding a long bath would be the perfect cure for the harrowing day she'd had.

He held his breath until he heard the door close with a soft click before letting it out slowly. Then he cleared his mind and dropped the mental barrier he had erected the moment his search for the blue-eyed beauty had begun.

 _Dad!_

Kakarotto groaned softly at the excitement laced through the boy's mental call. _Come here, boy. We need to talk._

"Damn it to hell," Kakarotto growled as the communication ended, unconsciously turning towards the door that led to the alternate Bulma. "Of all the places you had to end up, woman, why in God's name did it have to be here?"

Goku's search had been going on for hours, and Vegeta's already ill-achieved attempt at patience was beginning to wear very, very thin. Kaio-sama had left them alone, though only after a round of his usual jokes had earned him a ki blast an inch from his head from the irritated Saiyajin Prince, followed by a promise not to miss a second time. Goku's stomach suddenly made its own declaration, rumbling loudly into the empty space surrounding the platform. Vegeta opened his mouth to berate the man and his constant desire to stuff his face when his own appetite betrayed him and answered his fellow Saiyajin's call with a groan of its own.

Goku grinned and cracked an eye open. "Sounds like we need a lunch break, neh?"

"Fool, you are dead," Vegeta mumbled from his meditative cross-legged position several inches above the platform. "You should not need to eat."

"Yeah, Kaio-sama said that when I came to train with him the first time, but if I don't eat, then I can't concentrate."

Vegeta growled softly before opening his eyes. "Hn. Whatever, just hurry up."

"I know. We'll zip over to Kaio-sama's real quick, eat, and come right back." Goku's face became serious at the glare he received from Vegeta. "I won't give up, Vegeta. I promise you that. If anything happens to her, I'll never forgive myself."

"Neither will I, Kakarotto."

Goku nodded once before reaching over and placing one hand on Vegeta's shoulder and the other to his forehead. Moments later, the duo fazed out, reappearing inside the humble home of King Kai.

"Ah! Goku, don't do that to me!" the pudgy deity admonished with a frown which got even deeper upon seeing the scowling prince. He straightened himself to his full height and cleared his throat. "I knew you'd be hungry so..."

Goku had already seen the table, or more accurately, the spread that was laid out on it and was already seated. He heaped food onto a plate and dug in, small bits and pieces of meat, rice and vegetables flying every which way.

Vegeta stalked over to the chair across from the younger Saiyajin. "Even in the afterlife, you're a fucking pig, Kakarotto," he observed with a snarl before fixing his own generous helping.

"I can't help it," Goku replied with his classic Son smile after swallowing the five dumplings that had been in his mouth a second earlier. "After all that searching, I was starving!"

"Hn, you were sitting on your ass all day. How the hell can you work up an appetite like that when you never even moved, eh?"

Goku shrugged lightly. "I'd like to see you try to do it."

Vegeta huffed indignantly at the bold challenge. "Fine, when we get back, I'll search for the woman's ki. Maybe then we'll actually be able to find her."

"Whatever you say, Vegeta."

Kaio-sama listened to the bickering with a grin. "So," he cut in once he heard the apparent cease-fire, "I'm guessing you haven't had any luck yet?"

"Not yet, but I've only covered about five percent of the universe so far, so there's still a ways to go..."

Vegeta balked. "What? Did you just say that we wasted all of that time out in the middle of nowhere, doing absolutely nothing, and you didn't even scratch the surface in your search?"

"I told you, the universe is a big place," Goku replied smoothly. "When I said it could take awhile, I meant it."

"You fucking low-class, brain-damaged idiot!" Vegeta hissed as he clenched both fists and teeth painfully.

Goku blinked. "Huh?"

"Think, Kakarotto! The woman has only been gone for two days, correct?" Vegeta asked.

"Uh, yeah."

Vegeta nodded as he managed to suppress a snarl. "And if she was kidnapped, transported, whatever, into space, she could only travel so fast, right?"

Goku scratched the back of his head as his brow furrowed thoughtfully. "I guess that makes sense..."

"Which means she would more than likely be limited as to how far she could have gotten out into space in the time she's been gone. Do you understand?"

"I think so," Goku answered. "You're saying that if she's out there, then she'll be relatively close to Earth and therefore I should search using that as a starting point and work my way out. Right?"

Vegeta huffed. "Yes, Kakarotto. Do you think you can handle that?"

"I think so," Goku managed out with a growl, "considering that's what I've been doing all along." The change in the normally benevolent warrior's expression coupled with the simple statement was enough to make Vegeta's eyes widen before he could plant his normally blank expression back into place. Goku smirked, startling the older Saiyajin for the second time in as many seconds. "Surprised? You shouldn't be. You said yourself that I seem smarter than I was before. Maybe if you had offered to help while we were out there instead of barking orders and bitching like an arrogant prick, you would have known what I was doing."

Before either Vegeta or King Kai could recover from the uncharacteristic display, Goku slid his chair back and walked out the front door, leaving the other two to stare at the spot where Goku had been sitting dazedly.

Vegeta was the first to come back to himself, and he shot out of his own chair. "How dare he-"

"Vegeta," Kaio-sama interjected slowly, earning him a glare from the smaller Saiyajin that would make most men shrink away in terror. Kaio-sama fought the initial instinct with a deep breath. "Perhaps there are some things I should explain to you about what happens when someone like Goku comes to Otherworld. It will help to explain what just happened, I think."

"I don't care about what happens when an idiot like Kakarotto dies." Which wasn't entirely true. In all honesty, Vegeta was, albeit grudgingly, impressed with the changes he had witnessed in his rival and couldn't help but be curious as to what would bring it about. But he wasn't about to admit that.

"Perhaps you should."

Vegeta regarded the undersized god coldly before leaning against the wall, folding his arms over his chest. "Hn. Fine, tell me what you will. You have five minutes."

The northern kai sighed. Where to begin? The rotund being thought on that for several moments before taking his normal stance, clasping his hands behind his back and lifting his dark-spectacled gaze to the Saiyajin no Ouji.

 _Wait, Kaio-sama!_

"Huh?" King Kai frowned slightly. _Goku?_

Vegeta raised an eyebrow, but remained silent as he watched the shorter of them with veiled interest.

 _You're right, Kaio-sama. Vegeta needs to know what's happened to me since I've come here, but I should be the one to talk to him._ King Kai was aware of Goku's knowing grin through the telepathic call, even though he couldn't actually see it. _I'm not sure how he's gonna take it, so I think it'll be safer that way._

Oh! Right! King Kai sweatdropped nervously at the thought of the Saiyajin Prince's reaction. _I'll send him to you then._

Goku chuckled softly. _Thanks, Kaio-sama. Don't worry, I'll keep him in check._

Alright, Goku. Just remember, as long as you keep him here, he's in your charge.

 _I understand. Thank you for allowing him to stay. I know he's a pain in the ass, but I have a feeling I'm going to need his help._

The little man snorted in quiet amusement. _Are you sure it's not just because you've missed having a decent sparring partner?_

A pause. _Is it that obvious?_

Laresk was staring slack-jawed while Isaka stood frozen, his normally inquisitive blue eyes downcast at his father's side. Kakarotto sighed softly as he ruffled the boy's spiky ebony mane that was identical to his own. He knew the revelation would be a surprise to them both, but he had not dared to speculate how his son would react to the news that the woman they had both hoped was his beloved mother turned out not to be her after all.

"I am truly sorry, Isaka." _I wanted it to be her, as well,_ he added privately to his son.

The half-Saiyajin nodded and sniffled once before raising his glittering gaze to his father. "I know, Dad, and I promise I will be strong," he stated firmly before he ran the back of his hand across his eyes roughly. "Mom wouldn't want me to cry for her, would she?"

"No," Kakarotto agreed, his pride in his son's attitude evident in his tone. "She would not."

Laresk's own shock had worn off, and he shifted from one foot to another, hesitant to interrupt the conversation between the two. Kakarotto sensed it and brought his attention back to him, silently giving the nervous scientist permission to speak. "How do you wish to proceed, Kakarotto-sama? You said that the woman is not even sure herself of the mechanics of the ship that brought her here, so how can we fix it and send her back?"

"Even though she is unfamiliar with it, the Bulma of the other time is a clever woman. As a matter of fact, she seems to be just as intelligent as the woman we all knew, so I'm sure that she will be able to figure it out if given the time and resources necessary to do so," Kakarotto reasoned. "That is why I need the secondary engineering facility cleared out and ready for her first thing tomorrow. You will need to transport her ship there, and make sure you have any and all available equipment at her disposal. I am also putting you in charge of assisting her. She will be understandably unsure of some of our devices, so you will need to be with her to explain what she does not know."

"Yes sir," Laresk agreed readily before stopping short. "But..."

Kakarotto quirked an eyebrow. "Speak freely, Laresk. You know I expect nothing less from you."

Laresk took a long, steadying breath. "I am sure she will indeed be able to do as you have said under those circumstances. I simply wonder, my lord, if... well..." Laresk shrugged. "I can't help but fear that time is one thing we don't have right now. We have only one week before Frieza's henchmen will arrive."

The Saiyajin forced down the initial rage associated with the icejin's name so that he could think clearly; he had to focus on the immediate threat rather than revenge. The time for that would come soon enough. "I know, Laresk. The tyrant is sending his best this time. Zarbon and Dedoria are both stronger than Vegeta and Nappa were," he admitted nonchalantly as he continued to move around the room, "and I doubt they will hold back."

"You don't sound very concerned," Laresk observed cautiously.

"I'm not."

Laresk fidgeted at the man's flat tone. "Then you are sure you can kill them?"

"Yes, Laresk, I am sure," Kakarotto replied as he threw a shit-eating smirk over his shoulder. "Those two don't have a chance in hell of defeating me." Then his mouth fell. "I am much more concerned with Frieza himself."

"What? Why?" Laresk shouted, for the name alone sent chills down the man's spine.

Kakarotto turned around to regard his confidant. "Because this time, the bastard isn't so presumptuous as to expect his elites to come back with an easy victory as he has in the past."

Laresk balked. "You - you mean he's coming with them?"

"It appears so," Kakarotto confirmed with a nod. "I began feeling his ki following theirs just last night."

"But we haven't prepared for this!" Laresk cried out in alarm. "He could simply destroy the planet, and we would be unable to stop him!"

"Relax, Laresk," Kakarotto commanded sharply. "Frieza wishes to face me personally, and I have every intention of giving him exactly what he wants." The air stirred as Kakarotto's power spiked, though the glowering man seemed to not even realize he was doing it as his need for revenge burned through his consciousness.

He closed his eyes as the memories that fueled his continued existence played through his mind. It was the only thing that had kept him sane since her death. Frieza had not known that Bulma was part of the group that he had targeted that fateful day just over a year earlier. The sadistic tyrant had only meant to send Kakarotto a message by destroying the group of Earth's scientists that were stationed on his newest conquest. Frieza had no inkling that he was inadvertently assuring his own death when he shot the blast into the power core of the large building, blowing it into thousands of miniscule chunks of insignificant space junk. Of course, everyone had held onto the unrealistic hope that there were survivors, despite the evidence to the contrary. Kakarotto himself had tried to believe it. Even as her spirit was ripped from his mind, he wanted to believe. But he had known. He had denied it, but both in his heart and through his bond, he had known the truth.

In one decisive moment in time, the galaxy's most feared dictator had taken the most precious thing in Kakarotto's life and replaced it - with raw agony, with maddening regret, with unfathomable hate -

With indescribable power.

While Kakarotto had been lost in his inner musings and Laresk preoccupied with the newly divulged information about Frieza, neither noticed that Isaka had turned away from them both several minutes earlier. He stood transfixed in a combination of surprise and grief at the doorway that led to the visitor from another reality who, at that very moment, just happened to stare back at him, mirror-image eyes wide in wonder. The young man did not have to ask how long she had been standing there or how much she had heard. Isaka was a youth wise beyond his meager ten years, so he knew what the look on her face meant.

She had heard everything.

Isaka didn't have time to consider anything else before the entire room exploded in a golden glow, pulses of uncontrolled energy sending shockwaves through the area and forcing anything not attached to the floor or walls to go flying through the air. Instinct begat reason, and Isaka moved with lightening speed to Bulma, throwing her to the floor as he shielded her with his own ki-enhanced body. He turned his head to see Laresk dive behind an overturned table and cover himself as best he could, though it meant little against the power that buffeted mercilessly against everything in its path. In the middle of the madness was Kakarotto, mouth open wide in a ferocious cry, upswept blonde locks dancing and bright teal eyes burning sightlessly.

Fear clutched painfully at Isaka's chest. _Oh no, not again!_

He cleared his mind and forced his consciousness out to his father frantically, though it almost knocked the breath out of him when the tide of crushing emotions hit him. The youth gritted his teeth against both the inner and outer assaults.

 _Otousan!_

"Hey, what's going on?" Bulma squeaked from beneath the boy. "Why did he transform into a Super Saiyajin?"

Isaka fought through his father's boiling emotions even as Bulma gave up on getting an answer out of her human shelter, opting to scream at the man who threatened their collective welfare instead. Two pleas to cease rang out simultaneously through the out-of-control Saiyajin's mind, one through the bond with his son, and one from the mouth of the carbon-copy of his dead mate.

 _Dad, stop! You're going to destroy us all!_

"Kakarotto! Stop it before you kill everyone in this room!"

Where Isaka alone had failed, the combination of the two familiar voices did the trick. Almost immediately the power disappeared and debris fell to the floor all around the chamber as the cause of the disturbance regained his senses. Hair and eyes both bled back to their normal midnight black, and Kakarotto fell to his hands and knees after the tremendous exertion, his sudden weight causing cracks to thread in spider web patterns across the stone beneath him. Corded arms trembled as he strained to hold himself up, a sheen of sweat shone over every inch of his exposed skin and beaded heavily on his brow until it ran down to the tip of his nose and fell to the ground below. His back heaved up and down as he gasped repeatedly to fill his burning lungs. He screwed his eyes shut and bared his razor-sharp teeth in an animalistic fashion as he fought to regain enough strength to drag himself off of the floor, though after several minutes it became quite obvious he would not be able to stand on his own.

Finally sure that everything was under control, Isaka lifted himself off of Bulma and went to his father's side. He knelt down and wrapped his arm around Kakarotto's waist to support the elder Saiyajin's considerable weight while he took one of his father's arms and slung it over his shoulder. "Come on, Dad," the boy stated softly. "You need a regen tank to restore your energy."

The man grunted in an attempt to respond, but gave up and nodded weakly instead. It was apparent to everyone in the room that the minute action took all he had left when Kakarotto lost consciousness, his chin falling against his chest.

Bulma watched in silent fascination as the boy suddenly took on the commanding air of his father as though he were slipping into an invisible suit. The boy scowled towards the table where the wiry man was hunched down. "Laresk-san!"

The man peeked his head out from his hiding place. Green eyes widened, and the man jumped to his feet. "Right!" Laresk broke into a run, throwing the double-doors wide while barking commands into his communicator, Isaka flying close behind with his father hanging limply at his side.

Bulma looked back and forth several times before muttering a curse under her breath and sprinting after the group.

End Chapter Five


	7. Chapter Six

_Special thanks to BluEydMnstr for beta-ing!_

 **Chapter Six**

Bulma skidded to a halt just in time to save herself from running into Isaka's back as the leading pair stopped suddenly in front of a large door. She blinked once before following at a safe distance away from them, realizing that this was the same room she herself had been in the day before. Another familiar sight met her wary gaze as startled silver eyes lifted from one of the large tubular tanks that lined the wall.

"Laresk-san, what's... Kakarotto-sama!"

Isaka touched down on the smooth tile floor and half carried, half drug his father's flaccid body to the first medical bed in a long row that took up the opposing side of the room before acknowledging the panicked medic. "Serori-san, set up one of the tanks," came the curt command from the young man as he began pulling off Kakarotto's clothing.

"Of-of course, Isaka-sama."

Without a conscious thought, Bulma closed the distance between herself and the other occupants of the room with small steps as she watched the violet-skinned woman Isaka called Serori begin preparing the largest of the regenerative chambers.

On the other side of the room, Isaka had already gotten his father's boots and breastplate off and was in the process of removing the tightly fitting bodysuit. "Close the door," he managed out between fierce tugs. "I don't want anyone seeing my father like this." With an impatient scowl, the boy ripped the fabric from Kakarotto's limp body, leaving him clad in only a small pair of tight fitting black shorts.

Laresk turned to obey, but stopped short as he noticed Bulma for the first time since leading her to her bedroom. The man's already wide eyes nearly popped out of his head at seeing the blue-haired stowaway. "Bulma-san! What are you doing here?"

"She followed us," Isaka answered flatly.

 _He knew?_ Bulma's questioning gaze landed on the boy who had, for the first time, moved his attention momentarily from the form of his helpless father. Of course he knew, she realized. He was part Saiyajin; he must have felt her ki trailing behind them. _But why didn't he say anything?_

The man-child's fiery sapphire orbs held hers intently for only a second before becoming hardened pinpoints as they shifted to Laresk. "Now, if you're done gawking, you can do as I asked and close the damn door," he growled.

Laresk nodded quickly. "Yes sir!" The wiry man immediately brushed past Bulma and secured the door. Bulma assumed that since Isaka had not stated that she had to leave, her presence was okay with the young man, so she braved several steps forward until she could see both the regen tank and the man who would be using it better. Her attention went first to the machine until a groan cut through the room, and she looked to the source, captured instantly within the confused stare of Kakarotto.

"Bulma..."

Bulma's breath caught in her throat at the softly spoken call. It was obvious to her that the sharp-witted Saiyajin she had met in this time was presently dazed and unaware of who he was addressing.

Isaka rested a hand on his father's shoulder. "Don't try to speak, Dad," the boy requested gently. "You need to rest."

Still the clouded eyes remained on the woman standing a few feet away as one battle-calloused hand reached forward shakily. "Bulma..."

Bulma looked to Isaka who, bless his brave warrior heart, appeared to fight fiercely against his own sadness and uncertainty at the sight of his sire calling out to the tangible memory of his mother before them. When the bright blue eyes lifted to her, she knew Isaka's control was fading fast. The youth was already having to deal with the effects of her sudden appearance on him, and she knew that he was ill-prepared to deal with his father's as well.

Serori, from her uninformed position, took a tentative step towards Bulma while shifting her gaze between her leader on the medical bed and his mate standing several feet away. "What - what's wrong, Bulma-san?"

And still Kakarotto continued to summon her as he struggled against both his own exhaustion and his son's grasp as he attempted to push himself up. "B - Bulma..." he croaked, his eyes screwed shut with effort.

Bulma swallowed hard. _Oh God..._

"Dad, please," Isaka begged softly as his eyes began glittering with building moisture. "Rest now. Save your strength."

Kakarotto shook his head in weak defiance before a thin hand took his offered one and gave it a gentle squeeze, stilling him immediately. Isaka's jaw clenched instinctively, forcing a sob to the back of his throat at the painful sight before him.

"Isaka's right," Bulma stated softly. "Rest now."

"So... so much to... tell you," the man whispered as he looked at the beautiful woman once again through unguarded eyes. "So much -"

Bulma felt the lump in her own throat as she took in everything that passed through the glossy obsidian orbs. "Later." Before she knew she was doing it, her hand lifted to brush a stubborn ebony strand from the man's face. "We'll talk when you're feeling better," she added before attempting to pull away. Her progress was stopped as the furry tail that had been hanging loosely off the side of the bed suddenly wrapped around her wrist.

"I don't... want to go... into a tank," he managed out. "Just need... to lay here... for awhile. You know how much... I hate those things. Doesn't work... anyway."

Bulma's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, it doesn't work?"

"Ever since the first time this happened," Isaka interjected hesitantly, "the tanks aren't as effective as they were before. They will heal him, but it takes much longer than it should, and he still must rest afterwards to regain all of his strength. No one's been able to figure out why."

Bulma's brain went to work. "Is the solution based on the original Saiyajin formula?"

"Yes," the boy replied, surprise evident in his tone. "You-" He stopped for a moment before steeling his resolve. "I mean, my mother recreated it from the information in one of the scouters that was retrieved many years ago."

 _Just like we did in my time._ Bulma nodded negligibly to herself before turning to Serori. "Are those machines designed so that you can control the amount of enzymes released into the fluid?"

The woman blinked several times before nodding dumbly, completely confused as to why Bulma would need to know information on her own brain child.

"Then you need to increase whatever you've got going in there," Bulma declared matter-of-factly. "If you don't, you might as well throw him into a swimming pool for all the good it will do."

"Increase it?" Serori asked cautiously, her eyes darting between everyone in the room. "By how much?"

Bulma bit her lip thoughtfully. "Ten times should do the trick."

"T - ten times?!" Serori gaped at Bulma as though she had sprouted wings. "But that will kill him!"

"Trust me," Bulma snapped, "it won't hurt him at all. In fact, he should come out stronger each time he uses it."

Serori shook her head. "I can't - "

"Do it," Isaka commanded softly.

"Sir?"

Isaka growled impatiently. "Do what she says. Increase the enzymes in the fluid."

"But... but," Serori stuttered. "What if something happens?"

Bulma had had enough. She unwound the tail that still coiled around her wrist before advancing on the woman. "Look, I'll stay with him to make sure nothing goes wrong. If it looks like he's in any danger at all, I'll drain the thing and pull him out." When the woman gave no response, Bulma put a hand on her hip and scowled. "Fine." With that, she stalked past the startled medic and began studying the controls to the regen tank. Luck was with her as she saw that the design was almost identical to the one she had in her own house. She immediately began punching in commands and making necessary adjustments. Less than a minute later, she was finished and the door to the machine opened with a soft hiss. She went back to Kakarotto's side and offered him a small smile. "Now you'll be good as new in no time."

He returned it with a tired smirk. "You always know... just what I need."

For just a moment, the man on the bed seemed so much like her Son-kun, it was too easy to play along. "Well, you can't always be the tough guy," Bulma responded gently.

Kakarotto chuckled softly as his eyes slipped shut once again. "I've missed you," came the whispered admission just before the Saiyajin warrior passed out for the second time.

Bulma took a shaky breath before her attention was drawn to her alternate self's son who was currently fighting a losing battle to reign in the emotions the short conversation had instigated. A wave of maternal protectiveness wove its way through Bulma's consciousness at the sight that reminded her a great deal of the second time she had met Trunks. It was bad enough that Laresk and Serori had witnessed Kakarotto's moment of weakness; she would be damned if she let them see the same happen to her son.

 _This boy might have been my son. My son..._

Isaka, true to his Saiyajin pride, ignored the knot in his stomach and the sting in his eyes as he combined ki and sheer inhuman strength to lift his father into his arms and maneuver the cumbersome form across the room to the awaiting chamber.

Bulma followed his progress until the blue-eyed half-Saiyajin had situated his father in the tank properly so she could attach the small sensors to his chest and forehead that would monitor everything from brainwaves to heart rate to breathing patterns. All the while, she felt two sets of bewildered eyes on her back, making her want to grind her teeth in irritation. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, Bulma Brief hated more than being watched while she worked. "Both of you, get out," she called sharply over her shoulder as her already short fuse met its end. "We're not on display here!"

"Are you sure, Bulma-san? Isaka-sama?" Laresk questioned tentatively.

Isaka nodded once as he crossed his arms over his armored chest in an attempt to imitate his father's imposing demeanor. Before Serori could get the protest from her lips, Laresk took her by the arm and pulled her out of the room, making sure to set the security lock so that only those within the room could open the steel door without an override code. Laresk had been with Kakarotto's clan long enough to know when to fight and when to walk away, so he left them to themselves and instead led the baffled woman at his side to his office so that he could explain all that had taken place to the best of his knowledge.

"How long will Dad be in there?"

Bulma forced herself to look away from the small glass window through which she had been watching Kakarotto, his finely-chiseled features smoothed serenely as his hair whipped gently around his face, only to be met with an equally angelic sight when her eyes fell on his son. The invincible guise had fallen away, and now the young Saiyajin looked at Bulma with wide and expectant eyes that made him seem so young and innocent. It was a startling contrast from only minutes earlier, and Bulma wondered what the young man had seen in his life that would give him the ability to swap personas so readily and with such ease. "Well, now that we have everything set up right, it should only take about two hours and he'll be even better than before."

"Is that really true, that he'll be stronger when he gets out?" the inquisitive boy chirped out, unable to mask his anticipation at the possibility.

Bulma grinned. "That's right, kid," Bulma replied, unconsciously picking up the pet name she had used to address Gohan since their adventure on Namek.

Isaka shuffled uneasily for a moment. "How did you know?" Bulma raised an eyebrow in a silent request for clarification. The young man's brow creased in thought. "Laresk-san and Serori-san have been trying to figure out what was wrong with the tanks for a year now, but neither of them could. Yet you solved the problem in moments. How did you do that?"

"Oh boy," Bulma began softly. "That's a long story, Isaka."

"Well, we have two hours," Isaka replied eagerly. The boy shifted his weight from one foot to another, the fingers of one hand capturing the digits of the other in nervous patterns. "I - I would really like to hear about you - about your time," he admitted shyly. "Please, Bulma-san?"

There was no way she could refuse such a heartfelt request from the young warrior, so she closed her eyes as she let the memory come back. "I knew what to do because I had the same problem the first time Go - Kakarotto tried to use a regen tank after he became a Super Saiyajin in my time. The increase in power caused chemical and physiological changes that not only made him stronger and raised his body's ability to withstand attack, but it also made him almost immune to the old formula we were using in the machines to heal him when he did get hurt."

Isaka's mouth was hanging open and the fiery cerulean eyes were impossibly wide. "You mean... that transformation... My father was a Super Saiyajin?"

"You didn't know?" Bulma spluttered out in mirrored shock.

Isaka shook his head. "I've heard of the legend, of course," he explained quickly, "but the information that we collected from the Saiyajin scouters stated that the last known Super Saiyajin could only hold that form under the full moon when he was oozaru." Isaka bit his lip thoughtfully, an action Bulma was quick to realize he had picked up from his mother. It was a habit she herself had indulged most of her life. "I suppose that would explain why he cannot control the power when it happens."

"Not really," Bulma contradicted with a shake of her head. "I mean, everyone who's become a Super Saiyajin where I come from never had any problem with it. As a matter of fact, one of them went a level beyond that."

"Was it my father?"

Bulma shook her head. "It was his son, Gohan. That kid's always been a firecracker," Bulma related fondly.

Isaka frowned slightly. "His son," the boy repeated softly. "But not yours?"

"No. In my time, Kakarotto was married to someone else." She noticed the boy's face drop, and she moved to lay a hand on his shoulder. "But he's been my best friend since I was a kid," she added with a smile.

"Oh." Isaka seemed to brighten a bit. "How old is his son? Gohan, right?"

"Yeah. Gohan turned twelve a few months back."

Once again, the boy's jaw fell open in unabashed astonishment. "And he's stronger than even a Super Saiyajin?"

"Well, he is when he needs to be," Bulma agreed softly, unable to make mention of Gohan's power without remembering the circumstances behind its awakening. She quickly forced the crushing grief to the back of her mind; Goku wouldn't want her to feel any resentment or regret with regard to the young man that had been his pride and joy throughout his life. _Besides, I love that kid like he was one of my own._

One of my own... Bulma chuckled softly to herself. _Good Lord, how many does that make now? Gohan, Trunks, and the baby makes three. Four, if I count Isaka..._

"So there are two Super Saiyajins," Isaka murmured to himself in awe. "Wow!"

Bulma pushed her own musing aside. "No, in my time, there were four of them. Besides Go - _damn it! -_ Kakarotto and Gohan, my son, Trunks, and his father are also Super Saiyajins."

Isaka took several moments to process the implications of that statement before braving another question. "Who is the other full-blooded Saiyajin?"

"That would be Vegeta," Bulma answered with a soft smirk. Annoying as he was, she had to admit that she had begun to miss their verbal sparring just a little...

"What?!" the boy cried out, blue eyes bulging. "The Saiyajin Prince is alive in your time? And... and he's a Super Saiyajin?"

"You know Vegeta?" she asked curiously.

Isaka swallowed hard as he shook his head. "No. In this time, he and a Saiyajin called Nappa came to Earth to challenge my father and purge the planet for that madman, Frieza. He destroyed several cities and killed a lot of people, including my uncle, before Dad was able to stop him."

It was Bulma's turn to gape. "Are you talking about Radditz?"

"Yeah."

"Oh wow," Bulma moaned as she ran a hand through her aqua tresses. "Kakarotto, Radditz, Nappa, Frieza... this is getting confusing."

Isaka nodded in agreement. "It's strange that both timelines seem to have many of the same people, and yet the events have played out so differently."

"You got that right." Bulma gave a surrendering sigh.. "Maybe we should forget all that and focus on your father and making sure what happened today doesn't happen again. What d'ya say?"

"Okay!" the boy agreed. "Now that Frieza is coming to Earth, Dad going to have to find a way to remain in control of his emotions. It won't be easy, though," Isaka noted worriedly as his gaze wavered and dropped to the floor. "My father hasn't been the same since..."

Bulma nodded once that she understood. One small portion of the conversation she had overheard earlier that evening between father, son, and closest family advisor played again through her mind -

 _The boy burst through the doors of his father's room and looked around, his brow knitted deeply in concentration. Scarcely a second later, azure eyes lit up like a torch. "Mom!" the boy cried out before his father's hand stopped him from running to the other room._

"Stop!" Kakarotto commanded sternly.

"But...but Dad..."

"It's not her," Kakarotto stated flatly.

Isaka's eyes narrowed. "It has to be! Laresk-san said himself that she was Bulma Brief. He did the tests!" The boy looked to the trembling, wraithlike scientist for confirmation, but received nothing but blank confusion instead.

"Damn it, boy!" Kakarotto spat impatiently, once again earning the youth's attention.. "Do you think I would not recognize my own mate?" The Saiyajin lifted orbs of endless midnight heavenward and let out a long breath. "Our Bulma is dead, Isaka..."

"Since your mother died," Bulma finished for him. He nodded as he swallowed again, dropping his gaze so she wouldn't see his eyes shining just a little more than they should have been.

A thick silence descended between Bulma and Isaka as both tried to figure out what would be the right thing to say after the ominous observation. Bulma wanted to ask about the woman, the mother, that he had known in this timeline, and Isaka simply wanted to keep talking, yet both were afraid to add to or take away from their conversation. So far, it had been comforting for them both, each using the other's company to soothe something that had been missing in themselves. Isaka walked over to the same medical bed Kakarotto had laid on less than an hour earlier and sat down on the edge of it to keep from fidgeting like some helpless brat in front of the woman.

"What... what happened to her?" Bulma braved finally, unable to reign in her curiosity. "You don't have to tell me if it's too painful," she added quickly when she saw the grief morph Isaka's childlike countenance into something much harsher she couldn't readily place on one so young; it was an expression much more fitting for someone like Vegeta.

"My mother was off-world when it happened," Isaka began softly as his eyes glazed slightly over with remembrance. "Dad had been opposed to the idea of her going on the expedition to Hygra from the beginning, but she insisted. She told him that if he was willing to risk sending her team, then it was worth sending her as well. She refused to be treated as though her life was more important than theirs, and she also had the most experience with the technology they were being sent to repair. Still, my father was adamant that she remain here, and they argued for days about it. Mom even slept in the spare bedroom one night." A small smile graced the youth's handsome features.

 _Yeah, that's definitely something I would do._ Bulma returned the minute grin with one of her own.

"Unfortunately, my father was never able to deny my mother anything that she really wanted, so he finally allowed her to lead the team, even though... he feared that something would happen."

"He knew?"

Isaka shrugged lightly. "He had no knowledge that would give him reason to worry, but I could feel his apprehension as we watched the ship take off. He tried to act as if that was not so, but I could sense it, and so could Mom. Still, the team made it to the planet without any problems, which eased all of our concerns somewhat. Besides, none of our intelligence reports gave any indication that the planet Hygra would be a target for Frieza since it is relatively worthless in terms of landscape and resources. The population of the planet is small, and the Hygrajins are used to the harsh conditions of their world where another race of people would die if they tried to populate it."

Isaka paused while Bulma, despite her confusion over the political mechanics of the situation he described, focused on the story the boy was relating to her. She would definitely have to remember to get Kakarotto to explain the way things worked around here when he woke up.

"It was two weeks later that the first report came in," Isaka continued, his young voice straining slightly. "Apparently Frieza found something of interest in the planet, after all. They began tracking his ship's approach three days before it arrived. Dad immediately insisted that the entire team leave, but once again, my mother refused. They had not completed their work on Hygra's planetary defense shield or their communication equipment. Mom knew if they left then, the planet would be completely unable to defend itself. The inhabitants are strong on that planet, but not so much so that they could fend off Frieza if the need arose."

"Did Frieza destroy the planet?" Bulma questioned tentatively.

"No," Isaka growled. "As soon as he arrived, he sent out several of his men to destroy cities and cause general mayhem while he searched for my father's scientific team. Apparently Frieza felt he had a score to settle," the boy hissed through clenched teeth, "so when he found out the location of the science station..."

Bulma sighed softly. "I see."

"I was doing my lessons when it happened," the boy whispered softly as the first glittering gem slid down his cheek. "My chest suddenly felt like someone had fired a ki blast at me. I... I didn't know what was wrong... until I heard Dad scream." The boy stopped and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fight back the rest of the tears that threatened to stream defiantly from his eyes.

Bulma stiffened instinctively as the young man began to crumble in front of her. The motherly instinct took over, and Bulma closed the distance between her and her alternate son to sit beside him and wrap an arm around his quivering shoulder. He sniffled several times, but remained taut and unyielding to her show of comfort.

"I... I promised my dad that I wouldn't cry again," he mumbled sorrowfully as he lifted his gaze to hers pleadingly, "but..."

Bulma smiled understandingly. "I know," she acknowledged gently, silently admiring the boy's resolve while her heart ached with the knowledge that he felt he had to shoulder such a heavy burden alone. "But I'll make you a deal," she went on in her best conspiratorial tone in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I won't tell if you won't. Deal?" She lifted her arm from around his shoulder and offered her hand to him.

Isaka nodded once before taking it into his own, grinning against the tears that ran down his cheeks. "It's a deal. Thank you, Bulma-san."

"Don't thank me," Bulma replied as she released the handshake and pulled Isaka into the crook of her arm. This time the youth didn't resist the embrace, but leaned heavily against her, and Bulma looked down in time to see the boy yawn and rub his eyes, reminding her that it was extremely late. Despite his near adult maturity, Isaka was still a child and more than likely was not used to being up at this hour. She glanced over to the electronic display on the regen tank. One more hour - plenty of time for a little nap.

Isaka sat up again as Bulma shifted and looked on as she adjusted the top of the bed into a semi-upright position before maneuvering herself so that she was laying along the length of it. "C'mon, kid. Let's rest for a few minutes," she offered with a quirk of her head. "We're both exhausted."

Isaka bit the inside of his lip indecisively before finally clambering up to lay next to her. He rested his head on her shoulder while she wrapped him in a protective hold and stroked comfortingly at his unruly raven mane, and within moments, both were fast asleep.

Vegeta cursed under his breath as energy-electrified wind blew across his face and through his upswept ebony hair. First the little blue man told him that he would explain the shift in Kakarotto's attitude, then he had stopped and asked him to speak with the younger full-blooded Saiyajin himself. He had grudgingly agreed, but now the baka was refusing to say anything until they got back to the barren platform in the sky as if there was nothing wrong with testing the patience of the Saiyajin no Ouji.

 _Fucking insolent bastard._

From his lead spot a few feet away, Goku grinned as he flew towards their destination. He could feel the anger of the diminutive prince rolling off of him in waves to openly oppose their otherwise tranquil surroundings. He didn't mean to laugh at the man, but the fact that the older Saiyajin was unnerved only proved to Goku that Vegeta was indeed quite anxious to get some answers, even if his colossal pride would not allow him to admit it. Goku turned to cast a glance at the perturbed prince over his shoulder.

 _Patience, my prince. You'll thank me later._

Several minutes later, Goku touched down on the smooth gray surface, followed closely by a now fuming Vegeta. Deciding that holding the irate Saiyajin off any longer would probably be detrimental to what he wanted to accomplish, Goku went to the center of the platform and sat down while he motioned for Vegeta to do the same in front of him.

Vegeta eyed the man for several moments before settling himself down gracefully so that he was face to face with Goku with only inches between the knees of their crossed legs.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier," Goku began in an attempt to ward off a portion of the man's ill-temper. For this to work, Vegeta would need to be calm and as relaxed as was possible for the smaller warrior. "I meant you no disrespect. I just..." Goku let the statement hang, unsure of how to put into words what was happening to him despite his promise to do just that.

Vegeta studied Goku for a while, looking for any traces of falsehood. Finding none, Vegeta rolled his eyes and snorted sarcastically. "Dummy, you acted like a Saiyajin. Don't ruin it with mindless nonsense."

"Right," Goku agreed with a small nod. He knew the harsh reply was the prince's way of accepting his apology without looking like he was going soft, and Goku was more than willing to take that. Goku had no intention of competing against the man's prideful nature; some battles held no hope of victory, and that was definitely one of them.

Goku opted instead to consider his next course of action. A great deal of what he thought and felt these days was a bit of a mystery to even himself, and he secretly held a small hope that the one in front of him could answer some questions that no one else, not even the other Saiyajins he had dealt with down below, had been able to answer. None of the others had been part of both worlds as Vegeta had, and no other had ever been forced to integrate Saiyajin instinct and Earthling environment.

Vegeta watched his rival carefully during the lengthy silence. It was interesting indeed to see such an array of emotions cross the man's normally carefree features, and the display served to deepen Vegeta's growing curiosity into Kakarotto's surprising metamorphosis from happy-go-lucky idiot to... what?

"Do you know how to perform a mind touch?"

Vegeta balked in unabashed astonishment before he could stop himself. Of course he knew how to do it; all Saiyajins on Vegeta-sei had been taught the ancient use of their naturally-occurring telepathy, but it was something that was frowned upon unless someone's life was at an end. Even then, to say it was something done rarely was a vast understatement. On their homeworld, it was widely believed that the only person who should be allowed such access to another's mind was one's mate, and that happened naturally once a pair bonded. The practice of a mind touch was different, as it was a one-way link that allowed one Saiyajin to go into another's unguarded thoughts and memories. During a session, the seeker could watch an event as though it was actually happening to them, feeling everything both physically and emotionally that resulted during and after the experience. The most common use of the technique, Vegeta remembered, occurred in the royal family. The Saiyajin King would pass on his vast library of knowledge and experience to his royal descendant before he died and left the throne to his heir, therefore helping to ensure the continued survival of their people with a leader wise beyond his years.

Vegeta quickly went through a mental inventory of everything he'd ever told the Earth-raised warrior about their shared heritage, though he already knew without a doubt he'd never once spoken of the art to the man. In truth, though Vegeta had been trained to do it, he had never had occasion to while under Frieza's stewardship. Not that he would have done it anyway. He had never felt any desire to get inside the heads of those he worked with while under the Icejin since they were all nothing more than sadistic madmen with absolutely no brains to speak of. Once his birthright had been blasted into millions of chunks of space rock, Vegeta had pretty much forgotten about the practice, pushing it to the very back of his mind along with anything else he deemed useless in regard to his survival.

Hearing the innocent question fall from the lips of the gentle giant in front of him was extremely unnerving. "How the hell do you know about that, Kakarotto?"

"I'm not sure," Goku admitted with a shrug. "There's a lot of stuff in my head right now that I don't understand. That's why I need you to have a look and see if you can make sense of some of it."

"What?" Did the third-class moron have any idea what he was asking? What he was offering? "You can't be serious!" Vegeta exclaimed as he jumped to his feet. "You... you... you don't just ask anyone to go for a stroll through your mind, Kakarotto!"

Goku's brow creased slightly as he looked up to the flabbergasted Saiyajin. "I'm not asking just anyone, Vegeta. I'm asking you."

There was no comeback that would do justice to that statement. Vegeta was speechless and froze like a statue.

"I didn't come to this decision lightly, Vegeta, but I've tried everything else," Goku explained quickly. "I even went down to hell in hopes that I would find someone that would tell me what all of these new thoughts and feelings mean, but there were only two down there that were allowed to retain their bodies and their memories. I talked to both of them at length, but there's still a lot they couldn't understand because I'm from Earth, and I'm a Super Saiyajin to boot."

"Do you realize that if you allow me into your mind, I could do irreparable damage if I chose to? You would once again be opening yourself up to attack?"

Goku nodded. "I was told as much by the Saiyajins I spoke with."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't trust the word of most of our people, Kakarotto." Vegeta scowled slightly as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Our race was known for its strength, not its intellect."

"I trust what I was told by these two," Goku stated softly. "Both of them were known to be the among the most honorable of the Saiyajin. Besides, you yourself once told me my father was smart."

"Bardock?" Vegeta asked in surprise.

Goku nodded once, never letting his eyes move from the man above him.

Vegeta suddenly felt light-headed as tingly tendrils of dread raced through the pit of his stomach and up his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Goku had spoken to two Saiyajins since his death. One had been the father he never met in life, and Vegeta had a sneaky suspicion, considering the expectant trepidation written across the other's face, that he knew who the other one was.

Goku answered the unspoken question in Vegeta's obsidian gaze. "The other Saiyajin I talked to was the Saiyajin King."

"You spoke with my father?" Vegeta asked flatly, his face back to its normal unreadable expression.

Goku nodded once again as he waited patiently for the information to register in the mind of the ouji.

Vegeta was lost among waves of alternating emotions - shock, envy, rage, disappointment, longing... The son of a bitch had actually talked to his father, his king, the man who was Vegeta's childhood mentor before Frieza had snatched him away. How many times had Vegeta cried out to his dead father in his life? How many times had he begged for the man's guidance? How many times had he cursed the man for leaving him to fend for himself, for lying to him about his strength, his birthright? And now... now this simpleton, this low-class bastard had again stolen something from Vegeta. He had spoken to the man. Kakarotto had managed to actually have a conversation with his father!

Goku knew Vegeta was in turmoil over the revelation, so he did the only thing he could think to. "We talked about you," Goku piped up, intruding on Vegeta's silent tirade and stopping the man cold.

Vegeta swallowed several times against the sudden tightness in his throat, his anger all but forgotten. "What... what did he say?"

"See for yourself." Goku motioned for Vegeta to sit with him once again and smiled knowingly. "Then we'll talk about me, okay?"

It was an offer Vegeta could not refuse.

End Chapter Six


	8. Chapter Seven

Special thanks to BluEydMnstr for beta-ing!

 **Chapter Seven**

"This is not something that was taken lightly by our people, Kakarotto. You do realize what will happen once I am within your mind?" Vegeta questioned solemnly after resuming his position sitting across from his full-blooded counterpart.

"Yeah," Goku affirmed with a knowing grin. "But like I said before, once you've seen the memory of my conversation with our King, you will help me understand what's happening to me. Deal?"

Vegeta searched the normally playful countenance for any signs of deception or misunderstanding. Once he was assured there were none, he scowled. "I said I would, did I not? I will keep my end of the bargain."

"Then let's get started," Goku urged as he stilled himself. "I wanna get back to looking for Bulma as soon as possible." The taller Saiyajin then rested his arms on the top of his crossed legs and closed his eyes, forcing his mind to clear so the prince would be as unhindered as possible during his quest.

Despite his internal turmoil, Vegeta mirrored Goku's actions, closing his eyes as he tugged the battle-worn white glove off his right hand, pushing all of his own thoughts aside so that he would be able to focus solely on the task at hand. He would have enough emotional garbage to deal with within the Earth-raised Saiyajin's mind without adding his own annoying nervousness to it. Besides, he was the Saiyajin King, he did not require justification for his actions regarding the third-class before him. It was his right to do what he wished since the son of a bitch had spoken with their king - with his father! He was simply claiming what should have been his to begin with.

Again.

After several deep, cleansing breaths, Vegeta lifted his hand to Goku's face, resting his palm on the man's forehead, his fingers finding a handhold among the unkempt raven spikes. Vegeta allowed Goku another moment to change his mind, but his fellow Saiyajin nodded almost imperceptibly to verify his wish to continue; Vegeta took his cue and slowly pushed his consciousness outward, tentatively searching for the link that would be the doorway to the inner workings of the man's previously unfathomable mind.

Vegeta found himself bathed in light brighter than the sun that beamed down on Earth, feelings of total peace and contentment encompassing him like a thick blanket. It was impossible... The man's spirit couldn't actually be so pure, so honest... Kakarotto was Saiyajin! Albeit a low-level, brain-damaged Saiyajin, but intrinsically Saiyajin none the less...

 _Are you surprised, Vegeta?_

Vegeta's awareness jerked at _Kakarotto?_

But... it wasn't supposed to be possible! A mind-touch was one-way... he shouldn't be able to... How-?

 _I'm not sure_ , Goku responded. _My telepathic abilities have grown a lot over the years. To be honest, I wasn't sure if I would be able to communicate with you at all until I felt your presence._

Vegeta growled mentally. _Bastard, if this is a trick -_

 _You know better than that,_ Goku admonished gently. _You are in my mind and can feel my intentions. You know that I have no more access to your feelings than normal. Quit letting your pride get in the way of what you know to be true._

Of course the man was right, though Vegeta would be damned if he would admit it, even mentally. Knowing his fellow Saiyajin had always possessed the ability to read into people's intentions, even during his life, was vexing enough. Instead he forced back his annoyance in favor of concentrating on his goal. _Fine. I should be grateful to have you guide me so that I do not have to waste any more time in your warped head than necessary._

A hearty laugh. _As you wish._

Vegeta felt more of his awareness being pulled into the maze of Goku's mind as images flashed periodically across his vision, the snippets of time like snapshots in an album that chronicled the man's rather unique existence. The prince ignored all of them for the time being as he followed the path laid out for him by his rival until, suddenly, everything came to a halt. The feelings revolving around this particular remembrance were almost overwhelming to Vegeta. There was shock, eagerness, excitement, anger, regret, sadness, pride...

Goku answered the unspoken question. _It was an interesting conversation. Your father is truly the ruler of our people, even in death._

 _What did you expect?_ Vegeta questioned sharply in an effort to conceal as much as possible his own raging emotions. _He is the king of Vegeta-sei._

 _Yes he is._ A pause. _Are you ready?_

 _Of course I am! I am not some helpless brat, Kakarotto. Now get on with it!_

He had no warning before everything around him seemed to shift and morph wildly, finally solidifying into a bleak gray landscape. Jagged rocks jutted from the ground sporadically and the grass that covered the rest seemed beaten down and dying. The sky was blue, but it wasn't the clear sky he was used to. It was much blander, faded to a dull shade with no sun to provide any type of added illumination. An unpleasant smell assaulted his senses, though he had no nose to crinkle in disgust. Vegeta noticed he was moving along a worn dirt path towards what looked like an opening to a cave within a rocky cliff in the distance. _Is that where we are going?_

 _Yes._

There was the eagerness and excitement he felt earlier, and Vegeta snorted indignantly at the juvenile reaction even as his own apprehension grew at the thought of seeing the man he had most looked up to so many years ago...

The outside movement ceased, and Vegeta's entire being froze along with it as his objective came into view. The tall, flame-haired royal's back was to them, just as erect and proud as the younger Vegeta remembered from the earliest days of his youth, the long violet cape whipping lightly in the unnatural breeze. He was surprised to find the other Saiyajin, Bardock, sitting on rock before the king, speaking in hushed tones; it was his attention that was caught first apparently, for the man suddenly quieted and stood up, a mixture of confusion and awe on his bronze features.

Vegeta smirked mentally. _At least some of their people still knew how to react when seeing their prince..._

 _Vegeta_ , came the soft warning, _don't forget where you are._

He had forgotten for a moment since the emotions surrounding him from the other man's mind were so strangely similar to his own. The scarred warrior wasn't looking at him, he was seeing his youngest son for the first time. Vegeta marveled for a moment at the tremor of panic, though slight in comparison to the curiosity and wonder, he felt through the link with Goku. He never knew the man even felt such things, considering his seemingly carefree attitude even in the face of the gravest danger. It was something that had always bothered Vegeta, that he, the prince of all Saiyajins, had felt fear in situations when the lower-class soldier had not.

 _Vegeta?_

 _What?_ he barked in annoyance.

 _You've always sold yourself short. Quit worrying about my accomplishments so much, eh? Focus on what's happening._

The perturbed prince was prepared to tell Goku where he could shove his little piece of foolish advice when a voice stopped him in his tracks, allowing his full attention to be drawn into the memory unfolding before him.

The king of his unknown homeworld was studying him carefully. "You are the tailless Saiyajin known as Goku?"

"Yes," Goku replied respectfully, offering a small bow. "But I was told my birthname was Kakarotto. You may call me that if you prefer."

Bardock had moved closer and was looking him up and down in stark amazement. "Then you... you're my son?" he questioned, his gruff voice softened by disbelief.

Goku nodded once before returning his gaze to the sovereign, realizing immediately why this man was a king. Everything about him screamed of royal breeding.

Experienced onyx eyes narrowed marginally. "For years I have heard the tales of the Saiyajin from Earth with no tail that destroyed the Icejin tyrants Frieza and Cooler. They say this Saiyajin is the legendary of our race. Are those stories true, Kakarotto?"

"Well," Goku began, scratching the back of his head nervously, "I am a Super Saiyajin, and I did defeat Frieza and Cooler, though I wasn't able to destroy either of them completely on my own."

"But... you said you're the legendary, the very pinnacle of our people!" Bardock interrupted. "How could you not kill them if you are what you claim to be?"

"Indeed," the king agreed angrily. "The Super Saiyajin is the most powerful-"

"I'm afraid your legend was a bit overrated, my king," Goku cut in as politely as possible, earning him looks that seemed to go between confounded and enraged from both his father and his king. "I mean you no disrespect, but the fact is that the Saiyajins who have lived on Earth and defended her have both gained and fought powers beyond anything either of you could have imagined possible."

The Saiyajin King seemed to consider the words. "You are no legendary," the man announced after a significant pause. "You are a fraud, a dishonor to your race. You come here and attempt to deceive your king -"

Vegeta knew what was about to happen. Kakarotto reacted as any honorable Saiyajin worth his salt would under such a blatant accusation, even if the reprimand fell from the lips of the king himself. The pride of all that remained who had obtained the coveted status of Super Saiyajin demanded no less, though Vegeta was rather surprised that the notoriously dimwitted man understood that. Yet the proof was undeniable as he felt the man's anger build quickly, and along with it came the incredible power the gentle giant was known throughout countless galaxies for.

The cavern, which had only a moment earlier been dim and foreboding, was suddenly flooded with light. Golden waves of energy pounded against the walls and roof, smaller rocks vaporizing upon contact with the fiery aura while larger stones flew through the air haphazardly. Both of hell's Saiyajin residents stood transfixed as they gaped at the source of the commotion in unmitigated bafflement and absolute terror.

"As you can see, I have not misrepresented myself to you," Goku began, his customarily lighthearted tone dropping to a lower, infinitely more dangerous and warning timbre; it left no doubt that the next person who wished to dispute him would pay the debt to his honor, as well as those he represented, with blood. "This power did not come easy for me, or any of the others. All of us who have ascended have endured unparalleled training and immeasurable hardships to get where we are. I became a Super Saiyajin after watching my lifelong friend and closest comrade die in front of my eyes at the hands of Frieza. Your own son became a Super Saiyajin at the cost of his body, his mind, his spirit... everything he valued most. Vegeta's fierce pride and arrogance were pummeled to attain the legendary power you taught him he was born to claim. His son, Trunks, had to see his entire world be systematically destroyed and everyone he cared for killed to transform. And the youngest Super Saiyajin, my son, a twelve-year old child, has witnessed more brutality and sadistic atrocities in his youth than most seasoned fighters will in a lifetime, and all to protect his family, his friends, and his home planet. We have all paid our dues with blood, sweat and tears. I will not allow you or anyone else to belittle our sacrifices just to appease you and your foolish concept of Saiyajin superiority."

Confident that he had the two elders' full attention, Goku let his energy drop to a more appropriate level for the confined space they were in while still maintaining the fair hair and eyes that accompanied his increased power. He regarded each man evenly, noting the open curiosity that graced the monarch's angled features. "You died shortly after you gave Vegeta over to Frieza," he stated more to himself than to anyone in the small enclosure, "so you aren't aware of what he's been through since then."

"No, I was not," the haughty king replied, "but I am proud to know that he both produced a powerful heir and obtained his birthright as a Super Saiyajin. He will reclaim the glory of our race, and -"

Goku snorted. "You still don't understand," he admonished angrily. "There is no 'old glory' to reclaim. I remember the day I learned from Radditz that I was one of you, and I was disgusted by it. I wanted no part of any group so inherently evil, and I renounced everything that was Saiyajin. Vegeta was the one that changed that. Vegeta has single-handedly redefined what it means to be a Saiyajin warrior - in strength and in character. For the last three years, he has used his strength to protect rather than conquer, just as I have my whole life. He has earned the admiration and respect of those who have fought beside him, and whether he will ever admit it to himself or not, he has found a planet that will welcome him for as long as he wants to stay rather than fear and loathe him. He has made it possible for me to stand before you now and say that I am proud to be a Saiyajin. Vegeta is truly worthy of his title as the Saiyajin Prince, and I'm honored to have been given the chance to fight alongside him."

King Vegeta cocked his head slightly and stroked the perfectly manicured goatee several times, an all-too familiar smirk creeping onto his angled features. "If the Icejin tyrant had not destroyed Vegeta-sei, you would have been revered for your strength and skill by all of our people, and you would have been granted all of the rights and privileges of the highest nobility. Your name would have been known and feared throughout the universe, stories of glorious victory in battle recounted to every child, passed down through generations..."

"As good as that all sounds," Goku replied, a hint of sarcasm staining his benevolent tone, "I've never cared much about status. As my prince has reminded me many times, I was born a low-level soldier, and I am eternally grateful for that now since that is the reason I was sent to Earth in the first place. And despite my third-class standing, I became a Super Saiyajin. That alone seems to point to a flaw in the Saiyajin idea of individual worth, don't you think?" Goku didn't wait for a reply before continuing. "And as for the notoriety you speak so highly of, I'd prefer to be forgotten in a day for protecting a planet than be remembered for years for destroying one."

"I see," the king acknowledged coolly after a considerable pause. "You are quite the enigma, son of Bardock. Despite your lack of enthusiasm, I cannot help but regret that our race did not survive to see such an admirable warrior born among us. You should also know-"

Vegeta growled as everything suddenly sped up once again, and the memory seemed to fade away. _Kakarotto, what the hell are you doing? He wasn't finished._

 _The rest isn't important, Vegeta,_ came the reply.

The older Saiyajin snorted. The fool forgot that while inside his mind, his reactions, both past and present, were an open book, and Vegeta felt very keenly the sudden anxiety within the other warrior. _What are you hiding? I demand to know!_

No answer.

 _Feh. Fine, if you won't tell me, then I will find out on my own._

 _Vegeta!_

 _No! I am not my father - I will not allow a low-class bastard like you to deceive me. If my father said anything else about me, I demand to know it!_

 _Damn it, Vegeta, not everything is about you!_ Goku retorted in annoyance.

Vegeta felt it out and knew that the man spoke the truth, and yet... _I can feel your attempts to keep something from me. Why? I'm not one of those pathetic humans you always watch over!_

A soft sigh. _I know that, Vegeta._

 _Then quit acting like it! I will not allow you to pity me, damn you!_

 _Alright, but after this, we rest. Then you will help me, no matter what. Agreed?_

 _I already said I would,_ Vegeta barked impatiently. What the hell was Kakarotto so worried about? No matter what? What was that supposed to mean? Before he could consider it further, everything shifted again, bringing his awareness back to the moment that had been withheld from him.

"I see," the king acknowledged coolly after a considerable pause. "You are quite the enigma, son of Bardock. Despite your lack of enthusiasm, I cannot help but regret that our race did not survive to see such an admirable warrior born among us. You should also know, though I am aware of your feelings concerning status, that you were never a third-class soldier."

Goku was taken aback by the statement. "Huh? But I thought-"

"You see, your father was about to be reevaluated when Vegeta-sei was destroyed," the king explained solemnly. "He was easily a first-class by then, and possibly even an elite. And as for you, it was brought to our attention after you were sent away that your power reading at birth had been inaccurate, so when I began hearing the rumors of a Super Saiyajin who had been raised on Earth..."

"But... I don't understand..." Goku stuttered uneasily. Sure he didn't care about the ranking system on his lost homeworld, but if what elder royal said was true...

"I have been told you can detect an enemy's energy without any type of device, and that you can hide your power level as well," KIng Vegeta continued. "Have you always had those abilities?"

"I... I guess so... sort of... though I didn't really know how to control my power very well until I started training..."

The king nodded negligibly. "But those abilities were there nonetheless. After your departure, someone noticed great fluctuations in your power level data. It seemed that every time someone was present, you would detect their energy and yours would drop drastically, but when you were alone and, I assume, felt unthreatened..."

Bardock stepped forward. "It seems your battle instinct was strong, even then, my son."

Goku looked from one man to the other for several moments. "So that means..."

The elder Vegeta nodded. "You were born a Saiyajin elite, Kakarotto. The only other of our race whose power was comparable to yours, ironically, was the Saiyajin Prince himself."

Vegeta pulled himself back. Of course, he had insisted that the overgrown asshole show this to him...

 _I'm sorry, Vegeta..._

 _Shut the fuck up, Kakarotto. Your babbling is unnecessary._

With that, Vegeta withdrew himself the rest of the way from the larger Saiyajin's mind so that he could consider all that he had learned within the privacy of his own.

Eyes of endless midnight slowly opened against the warm liquid surroundings and blinked several times in an instinctive effort to adjust to the annoying foreign substance. How he hated regen tanks! Still, Kakarotto had to grudgingly admit that, for the first time in over a year, the contraption seemed to have accomplished what it was designed to do. He flexed his fingers tentatively as if to confirm what his mind was telling him, but he was still somewhat surprised when the increased strength surged throughout his body with barely a conscious thought. It was true after all; he was indeed stronger than he had been before, just as the woman had predicted.

Damn! The woman!

He wasn't sure what was more demeaning - the fact that the strange interloper had apparently witnessed his moment of weakness when he lost all control over his power, or the fact that she had been forced to pretend to be his dead mate to comfort him during his confused delirium. The second also meant that she knew who she had been to him in this time. And what had happened to her.

He cursed himself for only a moment before deciding that getting out of the restrictive chamber took priority over berating himself. Self-loathing was something he did often enough and would surely do again very soon; there was no need to dwell on it while still encased in the God-forsaken contraption.

Kakarotto hit the manual release button within the tank before the buzzer could go off in an effort to avoid drawing unwanted attention to his presence in the medical bay. He knew that Laresk and Serori would both keep his whereabouts to themselves, as would his son, but if someone else were to learn of his 'episode'... Kakarotto was not so naive as to think that there would be no one that might find information about a possible medical condition quite interesting, perhaps even profitable. He pushed the disturbing thoughts away quickly, focusing only on getting out and returning to his bedchamber. He would deal with any complications that arose from the unfortunate incident later. With that decision made, he turned his attention to the substance that was quickly draining from the tank as he worked to replace the fluid he had been using to breathe during his stasis with fresh oxygen. He was in the process of drying himself with his ki when the door gave an audible click and began its slow ascent, allowing his much-appreciated release. He stepped out of the metal encasement and scanned the brightly-lit bay, fully expecting to find Laresk, and possibly his son, waiting for him.

There was nothing that could have adequately prepared Kakarotto for the poignant scene that greeted the powerful warrior's stunned gaze as his eyes fell on the small medical bed across the room.

The dumbstruck Saiyajin levitated a few inches off the squeaky tile floor and crossed the large room soundlessly, his wide eyes never moving from the form of the fragile blue-haired onna. Her delicate visage was angelic as she slept, pale skin perfectly smooth even as a tiny smile graced her lips while both slender arms cradled his young son who was curled up beside her, his head resting in the crook of her neck, his russet-hued tail wound securely around the woman's forearm. It was an image hauntingly similar to ones he thought on often within his most painful memories; his mate had always had a soft spot for the pleas to be held on nights when their young offspring couldn't sleep.

Deep down, Kakarotto's rational mind demanded that he rouse the boy at once and lecture him on confusing reality with fantasy, but... something wholly illogical stayed his hand. He simply couldn't do it. Perhaps it was the waves of contentment he sensed from his son for the first time since the youth's mother had died, or maybe it was the way Bulma held him so protectively, as if she was shielding him from the world.

 _Perhaps I have simply missed her too damned much to care anymore._

He forced his musings aside, focusing instead on how best to move them to a more private place without drawing unwanted attention when his searching eyes landed on the large double-doors at the end of the room that led to the outer courtyard. He knew, because of the midnight hour, that the grounds would be deserted, and the balcony to his room was only a short flight up and across; it would be better than braving countless hallways to get to the other side of the compound, he reasoned, both because of the sleeping pair and his current state of undress. With the decision made, he allowed himself one more long look at his fare before carefully maneuvering his arms underneath them and picking both up, using Bulma to hold onto while Isaka lie wedged between the woman and his own chest. He adjusted his grasp subtly so that neither would be unsupported while he mentally thanked the gods that both his son and Bulma were relatively small in comparison to himself before gliding to the exit.

He pushed his ki forward to open the doors and took to the air, making sure to put his body between the gusts of wind and the sleeping pair in his arms. He hoped that if he flew cautiously, he could avoid either of them waking. Unfortunately, he wasn't so lucky as he heard the soft whimpering from Bulma only a few seconds after leaving the ground. He lowered his gaze to meet the wide cerulean eyes that were fixed intently on him, and the man smirked ever so slightly.

"Do not tell me you're afraid," he taunted flatly, his grin growing marginally wider at the woman's indignant huff.

"Of course not," Bulma countered as she tightened her grip on the boy in her arms without realizing it, "but I am cold, and I'm pretty sure Isaka is too, judging by the way he's shivering."

Kakarotto frowned thoughtfully as he realized she was right. He could feel the tremors in Isaka's small form against his chest, and he swore under his breath for not thinking to grab a blanket for them. Of course they would be cold; even though he was attempting to block the wind, it still whipped around them as he moved through the air. "My apologies, Bulma-san," he offered sincerely, making the woman he held blink in surprise, though he did not acknowledge it. "Close your eyes for a moment."

Her brow furrowed in confusion, but she complied without argument. Suddenly there was a bright flash accompanied by a strong gust of wind, though this new one that caressed her skin was much warmer than the night air that had assaulted them moments earlier. She had to admit that whatever he did would definitely make the journey more comfortable, and she cracked her eyes open tentatively to see what had changed only to have both cobalt orbs become wide in stark wonderment. Bulma had always been curious about what it was like for the Saiyajins she had known when their energy flared around them, making them look as though they were a pyre that stood in the middle of a bonfire.

"Wow..." she breathed in a perfect combination of fear and awe.

Exhilarating. It was the only way she could describe what she was feeling as an entranced smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. She craned her neck as much as possible so she could watch the tendrils of blue flame that danced frantically around them and giving everything she could see outside of their protective wall of fire an unearthly glow. "This is so cool!"

Kakarotto grinned despite himself. "Yes, I suppose it is."

Much to Bulma's disappointment, the ride ended all too soon; a minute later, Kakarotto was stepping onto his balcony, once again using an invisible burst of ki to open the doors for them without releasing his hold on the two smaller bodies in his arms. Bulma sighed dejectedly and snuggled into the warm comfort of the arms that braced her, earning a sharp intake of breath from the powerful warrior looking down on her.

Kakarotto cleared his throat to cover up his shock at her actions as he walked across the large chamber and moved towards the hallway that led to Isaka's room. Once he made it to his destination, Kakarotto laid both Bulma and the spiky-haired boy down gently onto the small bed before helping the woman untangle herself from his son's embrace, mainly the firmly-gripping tail.

Soon enough she was able to get up without disturbing the sleeping demi-Saiyajin, although, as strange as it seemed, she really didn't want to leave him. She allowed herself a long glance instead, her throat constricting slightly as she watched the young man grab his pillow to his chest and clutch it in with a vise-like grip as he muttered something unintelligible into it.

Kakarotto had made it back to the doorway before turning around to find the woman standing over the boy's bed, looking down on him affectionately and even pulling the blanket he laid under around the adolescent fighter's shoulders before she seemed to freeze, her sapphire gaze locked on a point close to the boy's face. He peered curiously at her trembling hand as it descended carefully next to Isaka's head and pulled back a second later, a small rectangular item between her finger and thumb. The mighty leader of Chikyuu moved back into the room and towards the living memory of his mate, his eyes fixed on her contemplative features as she studied the paper-thin object intently. With only a foot between them, he stopped.

"What is it?" he asked, wincing inwardly when he realized his voice came out a bit harsher than he intended, though he was somewhat relieved to see that Bulma gave no outward indication that she noticed anything.

The lovely Earthling remained silent, swallowing the growing lump in her throat before finally tearing her gaze away to focus on the man who stood before her, his very presence fiercely proud and implacable. Had it not been for the scene earlier that evening, Bulma was certain that she probably would never have known that this altered version of her best friend was any different than he had first appeared. She would not have known that the cold demeanor was a mask, a facade used to protect himself against a grief that she could strangely identify with.

"Fate's a funny thing, don't you think?" she whispered, her eyes moving between the picture in her hand and the small form of her newly-discovered offspring. She didn't have to look back up to know the question confused the tall Saiyajin; the soft sound of his bare feet shifting on the stone floor told her that. Hell, it confused her too, but she couldn't stop herself as the words tumbled unchecked from her lips even as glittering pools of liquid grief formed in the corners of her eyes. "I mean... how else do you explain this? When my time machine blew up, it could have sent me anywhere, or it could have killed me. Yet here I am, trapped in some warped reality where the Saiyajin version of my best friend and the man I've loved longer than I care to remember -"

She choked back a quiet sob, mindful not to disturb the slumbering child she was watching before finding enough control over herself to continue, however mindless her monologue must be sounding to the perplexed audience of one that was again closing the distance between them. The pad of her thumb traced over the tattered edge of the photograph in her grasp reverently, and her shimmering blue eyes became distant and unfocused. "You know, I refused to accept that I'd never see Goku again when he died this time. God, I can't even begin to count the number of times over the last few months that I've prayed, begged... even threatened the gods to find some way - any way - to bring him back. I know he has his own wife and son, not to mention that I have my own baby boy, but still... there will always be a part of him that's just for me, you know? And then he goes and gets himself killed - again! It's not fair! Why... why did he have to leave us? And now this..."

 _Again, she speaks of Goku..._

Kakarotto winced inwardly at the all-too human name, one of many ghosts from his distant past that he preferred not to think about too often. Still, hearing it drop from the delicate lips of the woman during her mournful ramblings wiped any anger he may have felt otherwise completely away, replacing it with a complex mixture of curiosity, confusion, and an agonizing empathy. Could it really be possible, that this Bulma could have loved and lost a version of himself in her own time, just as he had treasured his own Bulma, even to the point of threatening his sanity when she died? It sure looked that way, he realized, and the realization brought forth a deeply-buried feeling of animosity towards whatever divine beings ruled over their lives. If it was actually true, if this Goku she spoke of was indeed an alternate form of himself in her reality, then Kakarotto would have to say that fate was anything but funny. The loss of his precious mate had already convinced the cynical warrior that providence was a cruel creature; there was once a time when he had been cold, cunning, and completely merciless in all his endeavors. The human concept of love had been laughable at best, an unforgivable weakness, and it was one thing Kakarotto had no desire to indulge in.

That was, until he had crossed paths with Bulma Brief.

It wasn't until he had been drawn in by the enigmatic female's vigorous spirit and conquered by her infallible trust and devotion that the once ruthless leader of Earth became who he was now, and though he would never trade even a moment of his life with the blue-haired genius or change what he had become through her influence, it didn't mean he had to be grateful for her loss. As a matter of fact, the notion that destiny had joined their paths only to take her away made the very idea of fate seem damn near sadistic in nature. Were it not for the compelling similarities of this alternate Bulma's circumstances to his own, he would have chalked this entire maddening situation up to being a case of holy revenge for the wrongs of his past. What better way to punish him than to thrust a living, breathing, walking image of the woman he had so shamefully and pitifully longed for over the past year into his life, and at the absolute worst possible time? He needed to be focused entirely on Frieza and the threat the tyrant posed to his planet, not on the unforgivable debility he suffered from. He wondered, only for the briefest moment, why he had not reverted back to the way he had been before she had stormed her way into his heart. It would definitely be easier, he knew, but... He had made her a promise the night he had claimed her, and until he drew his last breath, he would abide by it. He would not digress to the monster he had once been.

Her memory deserved no less. Neither did his son.

An unsteady hand landed tentatively on his arm. "Kakarotto?"

The formidable Saiyajin had to physically shake himself out of his reverie to focus on the voice that addressed him, his gaze clearing as it locked onto the shimmering depths of færie-fire blue that were fixed intently on his face. He looked away quickly, finding the sight of his son infinitely more comfortable than Bulma's after his musings. "Forgive me," he managed out, his normally melodic voice sounding forced and unnatural as it passed through the constricted muscles in his throat. "I did not mean to-" He instinctively attempted to move away from the warm touch by folding his arms over his bare chest and was surprised when her grip tightened on his forearm just enough to give him pause.

"It's okay," she assured him softly. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. I shouldn't have gone on a rant like that, especially since..." She swallowed audibly when his entire body became rigid and his bottomless onyx eyes jerked back to her as if daring her to continue. Unwilling to back down under the ardent scrutiny, she straightened her back defiantly and met his gaze evenly without releasing her hold on his wrist. "I know that it's hard for both you and Isaka having me here, reminding you of her. It's obvious she meant a great deal to you, and -" Faster than she could blink, the arm jerked out of her hold and fingers of steel were cupped around her chin, digging in painfully along her jawline. Her heart nearly stopped beating when the man's enraged countenance filled her panicked vision; in her shock, she dropped the picture she had been holding, which fell unnoticed to the floor beside the bed.

"Listen very carefully," he snarled viciously through clenched teeth. "You know nothing. Not of me, not of my son, and especially not of my mate. You will be treated as a guest until you can return to your time, but while you are here, you are never to speak of her again. If you do, I will not hesitate to kill you. Is that understood?"

She nodded as much as his hold would allow, and she was rewarded with her freedom as he let her go and took several steps back, allowing her a clear path to the door. She drew in one ragged lungful of air before making her escape, heading for the room she had been shown earlier in a run.

Kakarotto closed his eyes, concentrating on the woman's ki until he was sure she had reached her chamber before taking in a steadying breath. He had not wished to frighten her, but it was the only way to get her away from him before he did something truly foolish. The combination of her identical appearance, the way she had spoken, even the way she carried herself with such fearlessness...

"What the hell is happening to me?" he growled as he turned to leave the room, glancing once more to the slumbering boy. He stopped when his eyes caught sight of the fallen object that had so thoroughly captured Bulma's interest and instigated her soulful outburst. He bent down and picked it up gingerly, fully intending to put the item back where she had originally found it on the bed.

Then he saw it. Then he realized.

Kakarotto loathed cameras. First of all, the whole idea of sentimentality had been, in his narrow-minded estimation, a ridiculous concept to begin with. Secondly, they were unnecessary when images could be digitized and stored in computers, yet Bulma had always been fond of the over-rated contraptions. He remembered vividly when she had made one herself, even though she only planned to use it once...

"So, what do you think?"

He raised a skeptical eyebrow at his excited mate before eyeing the device she waved in front of him. "What is it?" he asked, taking the palm-sized machine into his hand and studying it quizzically.

Bright blue eyes rolled in exaggerated impatience. "It's a camera. I want a picture of the three of us," she explained quickly, glancing at the small cradle next to their bed before giving him her best pleading look. "Please?"

"Begging doesn't suit you," he replied dryly.

"Alright then," she stated, taking the camera from his hands. She pulled him against her, wrapping both arms around his neck, the camera dangling behind him. "Sit your ass down so I can get Laresk to take our picture."

A soft chuckle. "Mmm, that's more like it," he breathed, brushing the tip of her nose lightly with his before gazing deeply into her eyes. A soft sigh escaped him as he felt the anticipation, the heartfelt desire of his acceptance through their bond. "This is important to you?"

"Yes," she confirmed with a small smile. "I know you still don't understand everything about human emotions, but... I want to be able to give it to Isaka. It's more meaningful than some image on a computer. A picture is something tangible he'll be able to hold in his hand..." The cerulean eyes clouded slightly. "I know it sounds silly, but-"

His finger covering her mouth silenced her. "Sh, it does not matter." The same tender touch traced her lips before falling away. "If it is what you want, then you shall have it."

Kakarotto had to blink several times to force back the moisture building in the corners of his eyes. The woman had apparently been right all those years ago. It was obvious by the numerous smudges that marred the glossy image - he and Bulma gazing admiringly at one another while the sleeping child rested across their laps - that his young son handled the picture quite often. Isaka had been keeping it under his pillow, the seasoned fighter reasoned, though he had never known about it. It suddenly occurred to the emotive Saiyajin that he had never actually seen the thing until today. She had asked him if he wanted to look at it, as he recalled, but he had declined, and she had simply let the issue go without another word.

He considered taking the photo with him but decided against it, choosing instead to ask Laresk if there was a way to create a duplicate for himself. He placed it just to the right of Isaka's ebony mane where Bulma had found it and finally took his leave, heading towards the training rooms rather than to bed. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to sleep after everything that had happened, and he rationalized it further by telling himself that he had to make up for lost time anyway.

The truth was that he simply didn't trust himself at that moment with just a doorway standing between him and the woman that was proving to be more and more like his Bulma with every minute he spent with her.

End Chapter Seven


	9. Chapter Eight

_Five glomps to BluEydMnstr for her continuously ruthless beta-ing!_

 **Chapter Eight**

Small hands rubbed bleary eyes as the white-yellow rays of mid-morning sunlight filtered through the window and onto the young boy's sleepy face. Isaka blinked a few times and stretched lazily, but as soon as his drowsy mind caught up with both the time and his surroundings, he scrambled out of bed and ran straight to the window.

Just as he thought. It had to be at least ten o'clock, perhaps even a little later, although Isaka was almost willing to believe that his eyes were deceiving him. After all, it had been... actually, he'd _never_ seen this hour of the day from the comforts of his chambers; if he was ever a witness to it, it was because his father chose to train him outside rather than in the compound's largest gravity room...

 _Dad!_

Still dressed in his bodysuit from the day before, Isaka quickly left his room, stretching his senses out for his father's ki. As soon as he located it radiating from the training area as well as noted the increased energy emanating from him, he let out a sigh of relief. Bulma-san was right, his father was stronger than before! Now the question was, how much of the night did he recall?

"Please don't let him remember anything," he moaned softly, though he already knew that he wouldn't be so lucky. Just the fact that he had been allowed to sleep so late without someone waking him, whether it be Serori, Laresk, or his father personally, proved that something was off this morning. If only he knew what had happened after he fell asleep...

Of course, there was one way to find out.

He stopped at the large double-doors that led to his father's room and considered the wisdom of visiting her. His father had to have come out of the regen tank and found them - he could feel her warm, comforting embrace around him well after he dozed off - so she would know whether or not he was angered by the sight of them in that position. He cringed inwardly as he pictured the most plausible reaction, knowing that almost anything that reminded him of her seemed more often than not to set the still-mourning warrior off. But he hadn't woken him, so maybe Bulma-san's presence was helping a bit in that department. Sure, Isaka knew it must be difficult for his father to deal with a woman that was identical in so many ways to the one they lost. On the other hand, there was no denying that he was treating her with a great deal more patience and compassion than Isaka would have thought - had he ever been inclined to speculate the possibility of something like this happening.

It gave his decision enough merit that he walked quickly to the next set of doors and, after confirming that she was inside, knocked softly. When he heard nothing, he knocked again, slightly louder than before.

Bulma blinked a few times as the second round of light raps echoed through her room, finally dragging her attention away from the computer display in front of her. "Yes?"

"Bulma-san? Sorry-"

Bulma was already on her feet and at the door before the child could finish, and she swung the door wide to find a rather rumpled looking Isaka looking up at her. "No need to apologize," she told him, ushering him inside and peeking down the hallway before closing the heavy wooden door. When she turned back to him, she smiled brightly. "I didn't expect to see you this morning. Your dad's fine, by the way," she added quickly as she motioned for him to sit down beside her on a small loveseat against the wall.

"Yes, I felt it," he acknowledged with a nod. "His energy is stronger than it was before, just like you said."

"Yeah, well, that's how it's supposed to work for you guys, right?" she replied with a shrug. "Lord knows if Frieza's coming, G- I mean Kakarotto's gonna need all the power he can get."

Isaka's visage become solemn, the corners of his mouth turning downward slightly, once again making him look so much older than he really was. "I will be with him."

The kid was Gohan made over - well, with a slightly Vegeta-ish edge. The similarity made Bulma smile and eased her mind slightly at the choice she had made after the previous night's events.

As soon as she had gotten to her room and calmed herself down, she had used her newfound understanding of this reality's technology to access the workstation in her room and had spent every minute since poring over all of the data she could find on both the altered history of Earth and its leader; she couldn't imagine how someone even remotely like her could have fallen for someone so... brutish! Of course, there was a time when she had been enamored enough with Vegeta to sleep with him and conceive their son, so she supposed straight attraction wasn't outside the realm of possibility. But when she thought again about what he had said and the picture she had seen coupled with his Super Saiyajin episode earlier in the day, it just didn't make sense that what he felt for the Bulma of this timeline was so inconsequential, so she started from the very earliest date she could find and read... and read... and read some more.

At first, she had balked at what she found, but as she went on, she noticed a trend that tugged painfully at her heart. Kakarotto had gained his position by brute force, killing almost all of the planet's soldiers and political leaders in one ruthless sweep. He had been, as far as she was concerned, no better than the tyrant he was about to face from what she had read. But then she found the first mention of Bulma Brief...

There wasn't much information in the computer about what _actually_ happened between the heartless Saiyajin and the woman who was - she assumed - a nameless, faceless scientist until the day he came face to face with her the first time. It was too bad, for she was certain it would have read like the embarrassingly-cheesy romance novels she fancied so much when she felt especially depressed. Instead, she was left to only speculate at the events that unfolded based on the short record that marked their first official encounter.

The day, thirteen years ago by her calculations, that Bulma Brief tried to assassinate Kakarotto - and almost succeeded.

Fate was indeed a funny thing, because the computer showed that after that encounter - one that she was shocked her other self had survived since there was no explanation as to why he allowed her to go free - she became a permanent fixture in the data logs, noted for developing mechanical marvels to breaking ground in several areas of medicine, both human and Saiyajin. Even more amazing was that those events correlated seamlessly with slow and subtle changes within the previously merciless dictatorship the people had been ruled under since Kakarotto took over the planet. She had read through everything she could find up until the previous year where things became strangely blank, much as they were for the time before the appearance of the man who became this world's most feared leader, past or present.

 _Now I know why he's so touchy when it comes to her. They must have gone through hell to get where they were when they took that picture..._

That was when she had made up her mind to help him. So what if this reality's version of Goku didn't want her here? That was just too bad. It wasn't as though this had been her first choice, either, but since she was here, she sure as hell wasn't going to sit back and let all the people she had encountered, new and old, get killed by Frieza.

She had a feeling her other self would have done the same, had the roles been reversed.

Focusing on Isaka again, Bulma nodded. "I know you'll do everything you can, and so will I."

The sapphire eyes that were a carbon copy of her own widened significantly. "You mean" - he swallowed tightly - "you plan to stay?"

"I'm gonna wait to go home until after I know you and your dad have beaten Frieza and everyone's safe," she responded softly. "Then I'll have to go back." Bulma's heart broke at the sight of the boy's face falling, but she knew that he understood. "I'm gonna need your help, Isaka. Also, I'm pretty sure your father's not gonna approve of this... do you understand?"

As if to confirm it, Isaka took a deep breath and regarded her evenly once again, all traces of sadness gone in the blink of an eye, replaced with heartfelt gratitude. "Yes, Bulma-san. Where do we start?"

The mother in her was saying to leave him out of it, but the part of her that had allowed a five-year-old Gohan to travel a few galaxies away to Namek to find the dragonballs with her and Krillin quickly won the inner battle, and Bulma studied the half boy-half man for another minute before leaning forward, grinning mischievously. "Weeeell... how well do you know your way around the city?"

Goku finished his fifty-third round of katas and warm-up exercises before finally risking a look behind him. Just as he had been the entire night, Vegeta's form hovered almost a foot off the platform, cross-legged with his back turned, his shoulders rigid and his arms obviously crossed in front of him and out of view. The younger Saiyajin sighed softly; he had tried to give the irritable prince whatever time he needed to be alone - he hadn't even attempted to speak - but this was getting ridiculous. "C'mon, Vegeta... I'm sorry you had to find out like that, but-"

"I've already told you your idiotic words are unnecessary."

Well, at least Vegeta wasn't ignoring him entirely. "Then what the hell's the problem?" Goku shrugged at the man's back. "You know, I would've thought you'd be glad to find out that I wasn't born a third class."

The comment seemed to get Vegeta's attention, because the smaller warrior was on his feet and facing Goku within a fraction of a second. "Really?" he asked sarcastically, his eyes narrowed dangerously in a silent warning to be quiet so he could continue uninterrupted. "Let me guess - you think it would make me _feel_ better to know that I had been defeated by someone who was an equal rather than a simple-minded, low-level weakling? Or perhaps that I would feel better that my life had been saved by an elite rather than a commoner? Is that what you think, Kakarotto?"

"Maybe," Goku replied evenly. "Or maybe you would finally realize that you've never been second to me, and that just because I'm dead doesn't mean you don't have anything to fight for anymore." Vegeta balked momentarily before the arrogant smirk fell back into place and he opened his mouth, but Goku wasn't about to let the defensive shield the prince erected deter him. "Why have you stopped training?" he inquired softly.

Vegeta froze as onyx met obsidian in undiluted disbelief. "What?"

"Why did you stop training?" Goku repeated. "Do you really believe that just because I'm gone, Earth won't need to be protected anymore?"

"The fate of that mud ball is of no concern to me, Kakarotto," Vegeta snapped indignantly in an effort to hide his anger and embarrassment. The bastard had been watching him all this time?

"Bullshit," Goku shot back, his good-natured demeanor dropping in favor of a more serious, slightly challenging one. "Whether or not your pride will allow you to admit it, your home is on Earth now. It's not just about you and some meaningless grudge you have against me because you lost our first fight or because I ascended before you and defeated Frieza-"

Vegeta's fingers curled tightly into fists and the eyes that had been planted firmly on his larger counterpart became lethal slits. "You cannot belittle what you have done against me by calling it a mere grudge! This has nothing to do with Frieza, though it is humiliating that it was you, a brain-damaged fool, which avenged our race rather than me, as was my right and my responsibility. No, this is far more serious than that unfortunate event. It was when _you_ dared to challenged _me_ and my honor, Kakarotto, or have you forgotten?"

Goku blinked several times, confusion stealing over his angled features. "What are you talking about? I've never challenged you in anything! As a matter of fact, I've tried my damnedest _not_ to, even when you try to provoke it."

"Hn, how quickly we forget when it is convenient," Vegeta spat, his lips twisted in an unforgiving sneer as he stared Goku down. "Our first battle, when you" - the royal face blanched visibly in disgust - "asked the bald one not to finish me so that you could do it yourself-"

"Hold on a sec," Goku interrupted, shaking his head slowly. "You more than anyone should know that that's not how I operate. Hell, how many times have you told me how un-Saiyajin-like I am because of my willingness to show compassion or let things go?"

"Do not try to mislead me with that ridiculous act! You said you wished to let me live so that you could defeat me without any assistance when we met again," Vegeta argued, though his voice betrayed a very tenuous shred of doubt within the rage.

"Which I was hoping would be never," Goku responded honestly. "Vegeta, do you really think I would have put the well-being of my home and the people of Earth in jeopardy just to have another shot at you if I thought for even a second that you were gonna come back and try to destroy the planet again?" Goku sighed softly and ran his hand over his weary face. "Don't get me wrong, I would have fought you again if you had returned and left me no other option, and if it would have meant killing you to save everyone... I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't have. But it wasn't my first choice, and you've never given me a reason to regret the decision I made that day. As a matter of fact, the whole reason everyone's safe now is because of you."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Goku shrugged. "Well, if you hadn't come back to Earth and stayed with Bulma, then Trunks wouldn't have been born, and we wouldn't have known to prepare for the androids," he reasoned matter-of-factly. "Think about it - Trunks' timeline wasn't the worst case scenario. Just imagine what would've happened had he never existed at all. Not only would you guys all be dead in both timelines, but the entire planet would have more than likely been annihilated, and both Gohan and Bulma probably wouldn't have lived too much longer after Dr. Gero's monsters appeared. None of that is because of me, Vegeta. That's because of you and Trunks."

Vegeta was flabbergasted, to put it mildly, so he did the first thing that came to mind. The diminutive prince stalked forward until he was within a foot of Goku and grabbed the front of his gi, pulling the larger man down to eye level. For several very tense moments, silence reigned as Vegeta studied Goku's face carefully for any signs of deception, though in truth, he was also buying himself a little time so he could think. Fact was the benevolent savior was rarely so candid about such matters, and Vegeta, in all honesty, was at a loss as to how to handle the more serious side of the Saiyajin in front of him. And not only was the fool being serious, but he had actually paid Vegeta a... a _compliment_! Had the entire conversation not thrown the prince so off-kilter to begin with, he would have immediately thought the man was mocking him, but he had to admit that the man's observation had merit. Combining that with the memories he had seen in the younger fighter's mind...

With a sarcastic snort, Vegeta released Goku and stepped back, folding his arms over his chest once again. "I will still defeat you, Kakarotto. I am your prince, and I will beat it into your thick head which of us is stronger."

Goku grinned in relief as he realized he'd won this round with the obstinate royal. "Well, I've been training almost non-stop since I got back up here, but I'd definitely enjoy a good round with someone as strong as me."

"Hn. To do that, you will have to be revived," Vegeta noted. "I may be here to find the woman, but I do not plan to remain in this infernal dimension forever."

"Neither do I."

Vegeta's eyebrows drew together tightly. "If that is so, then why did you tell the woman that you would not allow yourself to be wished back?"

With this, Goku's visage darkened somberly. "I can't, not until I know what's been happening to me," he explained quietly. "I can't really explain it, but I... I don't trust myself enough to go back yet."

Vegeta detested being confused, and this was the third time it had happened. "You speak in riddles, Kakarotto," he growled impatiently. "Either explain yourself, or-"

"Do you remember when I came back after fighting with Frieza?" Goku asked quietly.

Vegeta nodded curtly. "What of it?"

"Well, when I became a Super Saiyajin the first time, I was so focused on avenging everyone, I didn't have to worry about the strange thoughts in my head. And once I went back to normal, I just kinda... forgot about it, I guess, but on Yardrat, as I learned to control the transformation... I dunno... it was like whispers in the back of my mind. I just ignored 'em and focused on channeling my power, but the better hold I got on it, the harder it was to block them out."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. Perhaps Kakarotto staying dead wasn't such a bad thing after all if going Super Saiyajin caused him to become a lunatic.

"I left that planet soon after just because I was worried I might... do something." Goku squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn't told anyone about this, both out of fear and self-disgust, but he knew he had to, and Vegeta was the only one that wouldn't condemn him. He reminded himself of that once more before continuing. "I mean, I've always liked to fight, liked the challenge of facing an opponent, but I've never wanted to _hurt_ anyone before. Especially not someone who was obviously weaker than me, but now..."

Vegeta considered Goku's words very carefully before responding. "When you returned, something was different, but I could not be sure if it was only because you had ascended or if there was another reason," Vegeta admitted with a frown. "But it is expected that you would hunger for battle more strongly as a Super Saiyajin."

"No," Goku argued, frustration twisting his features, "this is different. I mean, the first thing I wanted to do when I got home was..." He clenched his jaw a few times and ran a hand through his hair. "Damn it..."

"Spit it out, Kakarotto," Vegeta hissed, both out of irritation and curiosity. "If your first inclination did not involve food, then it must be something," he added with a smirk. "So?"

Goku didn't find it funny at all and returned the man's jab with a glare that would have sent anyone else running for their lives. It did, however, bring the proud prince's attempt to demean him to a screeching halt. "My first instinct when I got back was to fly to the biggest city I could find and destroy everything and everyone in it."

Years of training himself to be prepared for absolutely anything and Vegeta still wasn't ready for _that_ confession. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second as his mind quickly went through the implications of that statement and, in the end, could only come up with one solution.

If it was as he suspected, Kakarotto's original programming was kicking in.

Vegeta had assumed that the orders fed into Kakarotto's brain from birth had been completely wiped out due to the head injury that turned him into a weak-minded savior, but if going Super Saiyajin was triggering it, then that meant that it had been simply locked in his subconscious all this time.

Perhaps the idea of the Earth-raised Saiyajin being crazy wasn't the worst case scenario after all.

"I was able to deal with it while I was training and focused on only that, but when I tried to relax and especially when I tried to sleep," Goku went on, "it got really bad. And when I got angry or when I was confronted, even if the person didn't mean anything by it... Living with Chichi while training for the androids became almost unbearable. I just wanted to-" He knew he didn't have to finish the thought, for Vegeta knew very well what his wife was like. Goku growled softly and closed his eyes. "Anyway, since it looks like things will be calm for a while, I decided it would be best for me if I dealt with all of this up here where I can train constantly and I don't have to sleep if I don't want to. Anything that will keep me from feeling like that, or worse."

Of course, Vegeta had insulted the witless warrior relentlessly for acting so disgracefully human, and if it were several years earlier and they were meeting for their first time, hearing those sentiments would have been enough to allow the man to join him in conquest. But it wasn't their first meeting, and just because he had given his younger subject hell for not acting Saiyajin didn't mean he had not accepted the benefits of the man's unguarded nature. He had to admit, if only to himself, that the idea of a Saiyajin elite - he still had a hard time with _that_ , but now was not the time to worry with such things - with strength comparable to his own who harbored ruthless and bloodthirsty instincts that couldn't be controlled was a bit... disconcerting.

For Kakarotto, Vegeta was certain that feeling the burn of his original destiny in his blood would indeed be as bad as it could get, so to hear him add 'or worse' gave him pause. "Worse?" he questioned gruffly.

"Yeahi. While fighting the androids and seeing the people they hurt, there was a new feeling that was much worse than any of the others before, though I have a feeling you'll be able to relate to it better than anyone," Goku responded with a grimace. At Vegeta's silent urge to continue, Goku took in a deep breath and allowed a small, atypical - had Vegeta been able to describe it, he would have almost likened it to uncannily familiar - smirk to grace his lips.

Even the voice that spoke the damning words seemed to be coming from someone else entirely. "Why destroy a planet and its people when you can own them instead."

"Indeed," was all Vegeta said, though his eyes held a grave understanding. For the first time since their paths crossed years earlier, Vegeta held no ill feelings toward his fellow full blood's judgment.

If he were to return to Earth now, lord only knew what would happen.

"Can you help me?" Goku asked weakly. "Maybe if I understood -"

Vegeta stopped him with a nod. "Quit babbling and sit down," he directed, his voice leaving no room for argument, and Goku complied almost immediately as hopefulness flooded his features. "I do not need to go back into your mind to know what is happening. You simply need to learn how to conduct yourself as a proper Saiyajin." Goku blanched and his mouth opened to protest, but Vegeta shot him a look that cut it off before it began. "Despite what you may think of your heritage, it is the only way you will be able to control the urges you are feeling, and make no mistake - they will not get better."

Goku seemed to think for a moment before grinning broadly, all traces of his earlier mood gone. "Well, I guess if you can do it, then I can, too, right?"

Vegeta smirked at the man's ignorant assessment. This was going to be quite interesting, of that he was sure.

"You have no choice."

Laresk arrived with a rolling cart covered with various foods just in time to walk in and find his master sway unsteadily from his place at the control panel of the gravity chamber. "Kakarotto-sama!" He quickly rushed up and steadied the bulky man, supporting his weight as much as his much smaller frame would allow him to.

"I will be fine after I eat," came the annoyed reply as the pair managed to make it to a metal slab that protruded from the wall and the warrior sat down heavily.

Laresk nodded and brought the platter to Kakarotto; he watched in silence as most of the fare was consumed within minutes. "I made sure to provide enough for you and Isaka-sama, as well," he stated quickly.

Kakarotto, feeling the strength he had exhausted from going non-stop for so long return slowly to his limbs, raised an eyebrow. "Then you should bring it to him rather than letting it get cold."

"But... I assumed since he did not come to the lab to work on his lessons that he was training -" The glare he received made every inch of Laresk's skin crawl.

"He is not in the lab?"

"N-no, and he wasn't in his chambers or yours, either," he admitted shakily, remaining upright and holding the powerful warrior's gaze by sheer willpower and years of experience knowing that nothing would bring on the man's anger faster than a coward.

"What about the woman's room?"

Laresk choked. "I... I did not consider..." He stiffened his back instinctively. "I will find her right away!"

"No need." With one last glance at the frightened scientist, Kakarotto turned his consciousness inward for a moment. His son was pinpointed easily, though both his location and his companion made the man jump to his feet and growl viciously, sending the tray in front of him flying. "Damn it! He's not here at all. It seems he and Bulma have decided to visit the city," Kakarotto hissed.

Laresk allowed himself to follow his first inclination this time and gaped in unabashed shock. " _What?_ "

Kakarotto crossed the room to change his soiled clothing for something more appropriate for the public. Even though Bulma Brief had never been pronounced to the people as having been killed, her disappearance had been announced along with the rest of her team, and a full year later, Earthlings in the cities and countryside alike could still be seen holding vigils for the woman's safe return. She was, after all, considered a hero all over the planet for saving them in the most implausible way imaginable from the cruel and heartless dictator he had once been.

The irate Saiyajin shook those thoughts from his mind in favor of simple logic. The fact that the woman had ventured out was not overly troublesome. There were plenty of beautiful aqua-haired, blue-eyed females in the city, and this Bulma had a different hairstyle, slightly weaker build and alien clothing. It was possible she might not even earn more than a few second glances... if she were alone.

But Bulma and Isaka together was like announcing the return of his mate to the world, and _that_ could prove to be disastrous.

End Chapter Eight


	10. Chapter Nine

_Special thanks to BluEydMnstr for beta-ing._

 **Chapter Nine**

Bulma pocketed the brand new and fully stocked capsule case with a huff. "Thank God that's over! I can't believe how hard these things were to find!"

"It seems the technology is a bit different," Isaka added. "Probably because we have a greater integration with alien designs and engineering in this time. I recognized a few of the items you asked for, but only from my history texts."

"Well, just because it's from another planet doesn't mean it's better than the stuff my father developed," she responded stubbornly, crossing her arms and throwing her head back indignantly, almost tossing the draping hood that shielded a great deal of her face completely off in the process.

Her smaller counterpart immediately yelped and grabbed the tumbling cloth before it could expose her entire profile to the world around them. "Remember," Isaka reminded Bulma in a soft voice, "you need to continue to act as inconspicuous as possible. If would be most regrettable if anyone were to recognize us and mistake you for my mother." To emphasize the point, the young man tugged at the hood of his long, black cloak. However, it didn't hide the gleam of mischief in his wide blue eyes that were identical to her own as he glanced at her. "And if dad finds out I took you into the city, let alone without proper escort, he is liable to lock me in one of the training chambers for a week and bind me under a few hundred times normal gravity."

Bulma got the distinct feeling that the boy was only half joking, and she immediately thought of Vegeta and his several near-death GR incidents. "That's not funny," she snapped half-heartedly - the edge of worry significantly diminished any irritation she was attempting to convey - as they continued down the bustling concrete-gray road that wound through the center of town. "I've seen what happens to people under those conditions," she added quickly, "and it's never pretty."

"Did the Saiyajins where you come from train in similar facilities?"

"Oh yeah," she confirmed with a sarcastic laugh. "That is, if damn near killing yourself on a daily basis is what you would consider training like the guys where I'm from do."

Isaka considered that for a moment. "It seems there are strong similarities between the warriors of your reality and mine."

"I guess so," Bulma agreed with a nod, "though your father reminds me a great deal more of Vegeta than his alternate self from my time, though there are still a few likenesses between them, too."

The boy's eyes became even wider. "It is hard to imagine Vegeta being anything like my sire," the boy stated bluntly, a hint of defensiveness threaded into his curious tone.

"He wasn't always such a decent guy, believe me," Bulma replied with a chuckle, "and he's still no Mr. Personality for sure. Still, I think he made the transition from cold-blooded, power-hungry murderer fairly well, all things considered. Before I managed to send myself here, he hadn't even threatened to kill me for" - her brow furrowed as she did a quick approximation - "at least a year now."

"He was not serious about those threats though," Isaka questioned hesitantly, "right?"

Bulma smirked behind the folds of her own hooded cloak. "Only the first ten or so times. After that, I think he finally realized it would be much harder to get his training equipment fixed if I was dead."

"It sounds like you have the golden touch," Isaka remarked softly, his childlike features melting under a very thoughtful and overly mature expression.

"What do you mean?" Bulma asked, her eyebrows drawing together with obvious interest.

The boy's thin lips opened, then closed again before he shook his head dismissively. "Nothing, really. It is interesting to know that you and my mother are so much alike and have influenced the people around you in many of the same ways as well," he asserted quietly. "Perhaps I should not feel this way, but," he let out a long breath and drew another in slowly, "I am glad you are here, Bulma-san, and that you are helping my father."

Their pace had slowed over the course of the conversation, and now they stopped as the young man - _my son_ , Bulma's brain amended - regarded the mirror image of his mother meaningfully, and much too patiently for his age, she told herself. Still, she could see the ghost of a grieving, lonely little boy within those experienced sapphire depths begging to come out and voice the unspoken question that hung between them.

Was _she_ glad she was here?

Her thoughts immediately went to Trunks, whom she missed more than anyone else by far during this little adventure. The angelic, chubby features that were anything but when his meal was five minutes late or his cap fell off his lavender fuzz-covered head fixed itself in her mind's eye, and she smiled negligibly to herself and wondered if her future self had felt the same way as the man version jumped back in time with the sole responsibility of changing history and saving the world.

Then there was Gohan, the sweet, smiling child that had made his own unrecognized mark several times over in his short life. After all, how many pre-teen boys could say they had single-handedly melted the heart of a demon king by age five, held their own against several of the galaxy's most terrifying and formidable fighters before he turned seven, were on a first-name basis with God, and topped it all by doing the impossible and defeating a creature that threatened the entire universe. Or was it more amazing that he had witnessed so much evil in his life and still remained so hopeful and innocent?

Isaka was so much like Gohan that Bulma just wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. But thinking of those two adolescent heroes gave her the answer he was waiting for, and she smiled as she leaned down and took his hand into hers. Besides, she'd always been on the sidelines, so she kind of liked the idea of joining the ranks for once. Even if it meant having to see Frieza again, at least she could do something - _really_ do something - this time.

And it sure beat the hell out of moping around her laboratory.

"You know," she began, giving his fingers a light squeeze, "I'm glad I'm here, too." The lines that creased Isaka's brow disappeared as his entire face lit up, making Bulma's own smile broaden that much more.

They continued making their way along the streets, Isaka guiding the way while Bulma tried to soak in as much as she could. It was uncanny how much the city looked the same, though not as well developed as it had gotten where - or rather, _when_ \- she was from. Still, many of the buildings were familiar to her, especially in the district they had gone to, since it had been the oldest part of town. The major difference wasn't structural but cultural. Instead of large families, young lovers, and searching singles that cruised this particular thoroughfare in her time, the sidewalks were filled with varying humanoid species that ranged from midget to mammoth in comparison to humans. And there weren't many humans around at all, she noted. She kicked herself internally for not doing more research into the current society during her long night of investigating the past.

Well, the only way to find out was to ask. "Isaka, why aren't there many humans in the city? And what about all these other people?"

"Ever since my father openly defied Frieza by declining to join his ranks, refugees from all over have come here for shelter, as well as to help in any efforts to defeat the Icejin," Isaka responded knowledgeably. "At first, I don't think he wanted to allow them to stay, but my mother persuaded him. And it has worked out well," he continued. "Each new race of people that comes brings ideas and inventions that can be used to help protect everyone. It has become even more important now, because Frieza is becoming more ambitious with every planet he conquers. It was only a matter of time before he set his sights here."

"Okay, I can understand that, but what about humans? I've seen a few, but not nearly as many as there should be."

They had reached the entrance to small alley between two of the larger buildings, and Isaka led her into it and stopped, his face grave. "You told me that you read much of the history of this time last night. Unfortunately, many of the planet's original population died in my father's conquest. There have been many battles since, both internal and external, that have added to the casualties." He gave a grim smile. "I am thankful that I was not alive during the worst of it," he admitted somberly, "though my mother explained the worst to me when she felt I was old enough." Then his youthful visage became less solemn. "Now, because of that and the fact that Earthlings are not allowed in some of the more dangerous areas of the city, most remain in smaller colonies along the countryside. The only ones that reside here either work for my father and wear the royal badge to show that they are under his protection, or they have been genetically enhanced to make them stronger and faster than they would be naturally."

Bulma thought about that for a moment. It seemed to her like old-fashioned racism, forcing innocent people out of the city. But her real question at the moment wasn't about the socio-political system. What she _really_ wanted to know was why all those people that had died over the years hadn't been wished back. Before she had the chance to ask, she noticed Isaka's eyes narrow as his entire body became taut beneath the dark bodysuit he wore under his robe.

The persona of the child was gone, replaced with that of a seasoned warrior at the ready before she ever heard the first set of footsteps coming toward them from the other side of the alley.

It didn't take long, though, before a group of four blue-green creatures Bulma likened immediately to iguanas came out from under the blanket of shadows, looking delighted with their find as slanted, glossy black eyes ran over them both and long, scaly tails thumped heavily against the ground. The one in front stood a good ten feet tall and was at least half as wide across, rolls of disgustingly knotted flesh jiggling unhindered by the small vest he sported above the waist as he laughed sadistically. The three behind him, all a little shorter and much leaner though no less aesthetically appalling as far as Bulma was concerned, began chatting excitedly amongst themselves in a language she didn't understand, though the series of gurgles and hisses made her even more nervous.

Bulma scooted behind Isaka as discreetly as possible. "What _are_ those things?" Bulma whispered shakily into his ear, and tried to take it as a good sign when he snorted.

"Sekeijin," Isaka growled. "The three smaller ones would be easy to defeat, especially in such a closed space where they can't use their tails, but the one in front..."

Bulma balked and nearly gagged when the hideous head attacker ran his thick, slimy tongue over jagged teeth and sneered provocatively; his eyes were glued quite obviously on her rather than Isaka. "You've got to be kidding me!" she squealed, backing up another step. "But... but he looks like he could barely move with all that fat hanging off him!"

"Unfortunately, that is not the case," Isaka replied evenly. "Sekeijin are quite fast, and both their age and strength can be assimilated by their size. And he is one of the largest I have seen."

"Great," Bulma groaned. "But you can beat him, right?"

Isaka shrugged. "I do not know," he answered quietly. "I have never faced one in battle before. Unfortunately, it appears we will find out." He moved a step forward and turned slightly. "You should go, just in case."

Bulma stammered for a moment. "But -" She stopped when the lot of them advanced slowly, the back three poised for a fight while the ringleader's lecherous gaze narrowed on her, sending shivers of dread down her spine and making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

She realized running didn't seem so bad after all and made a break for the road.

She managed one step before a clammy, clawed hand grabbed her by the arm and forced her against the wall before her vision was filled with a bright flash and her ears rung with the echo of her own scream. She reopened them in time to see the hand fall away from her arm, and the lifeless eyes rolled back before her assailant finally fell in a half-charred heap at her feet. She jumped away and darted her frightened eyes to Isaka, prepared to thank him for the quick save when she realized, judging by the three limp bodies surrounding him, that he had not been the one to rescue her. His eyes were fixed on someone behind her.

She turned and gasped as she almost ran headlong - _again_ \- into the broad chest of a _very_ pissed-off looking full-blooded Saiyajin.

Kakarotto knew he had no right to be angry, for he only had himself to blame.

He had been shadowing them all day, avoiding any contact with the townspeople and keeping his ki drastically down to avoid detection by anyone who could sense such things. He had been enraged when he left the castle, true, but his mood had altered over the course of the afternoon as he saw the tension and grief his son had suffered through for a year dissolve from the boy's features, replaced with a combination of relaxed enjoyment and genuine contentment in the presence of their unexpected guest. It had been too long since his heir had actually been able to _be_ the exuberant youth he had been when Bulma was alive, and no matter how foolish his decision had been, he had found himself unable to interrupt their afternoon adventure, especially when it seemed they had taken the necessary precautions so they wouldn't draw attention to themselves. They had started back towards the castle shortly after dusk, and by that time, he had given up on being angry entirely; he chose to simply give the woman a warning about such reckless behavior along with several questions about the numerous purchases she had made, and his son would receive a rougher than normal training appointment in the morning and a stern warning never to do such a thing again without consulting him first.

He realized his mistake when he noticed, from his place within one of the doorways, four pairs of vile, opportunistic eyes slitting in concentration as they spied Bulma and Isaka from the opposite end of the narrow pathway. The good news was that Kakarotto was quite certain his son was stronger than the four of them combined, but the bad news was that he was even more sure that the largest would be faster and would be able to evade his son altogether. Then there was the issue of what Isaka didn't know about the lizard-like opponents - their rather nasty inclination to females, particularly the weaker human variety.

Still, he had waited for another moment, but it became quickly apparent that the largest had set his sights on Bulma. As soon as he realized it, the rage he had held back all day came back with a triple fold vengeance, though it was no longer directed toward his son or the onna. The final second had him moving faster than he ever had before and blasting a large hole through the heart of the one that dared touch his mate.

 _No! She is not my mate... she is a duplicate only._

But it didn't change the level of relief that flooded his mind as she looked up at him now, nor did it weaken his resolve to send the others that had been taken down by Isaka on a one-way trip to Hell for even considering her as a target.

"K-Kakarotto?" Bulma squeaked out, her cerulean eyes impossibly wide with raw fear that twisted his gut like a vise.

The glance he meant to be momentary to ensure she was unharmed became a locked gaze of obsidian on sapphire. His features softened dramatically, the sharp planes of fury becoming soft lines of concern. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly, not entirely confident in his voice. She nodded quickly, and though he could tell her body was unmarked from the encounter save for a pink ring around her bicep where the thing had grabbed her, the tremors he could see wracking her small form left no doubt that she had been scared half to death by the incident. Unfortunately, he had never been good with handling situations like these, even after so many years with his Bulma, but one thing his mate told him long ago stuck out in his mind.

 _When in doubt, she had said with a tender smile, just hold me._

It was still strange, however, when it was Bulma that took the step into the arm he opened to her, and he frowned even deeper when she wrapped herself around his waist and buried her face in his chest and her erratic shivering calmed seemingly on contact. He forced himself to take several deep breaths before finally leveling a stare on the boy a few feet away, apprehensive about how the boy would feel seeing such an open display of comfort towards the woman.

To his surprise, relief, and even a bit of anxiety, Isaka, cape long tossed away in the name of battle, smiled and gave him a nod of approval. _Damned kid is too sentimental,_ he admonished silently. _Hn, perhaps we both are._

Because, his rebellious brain proclaimed, it felt unbelievably good holding her.

He mentally slapped himself - _hard_ \- and focused his attention back to the three that lay behind Isaka, eyes narrowing dangerously as one of them began to stir. He had not even realized that his own hood had fallen from his face until the doomed assailant blinked several times and sat up, a threatening hiss cut off abruptly as the thing's eyes became saucers.

"Kakarotto-sama!" came the horrified gurgle before it turned toward the one who had landed it on its scaly back. "Isaka-sama!" Faster than it would have normally, the thing found its balance and stood, bowing immediately. When it rose again, it was evident that the creature was hoping he could weasel out of being executed by the royal father-son duo. "I-I did not recognize you, my lord," he offered to Isaka. "We-we were simply following the orders of our commander," he continued in a rush as he saw no signs of leniency from either of the Saiyajins glaring at him.

Then, as Bulma turned towards the speaker with her own hood pushed back and plainly showing her face, the unfortunate fighter's expression lost any trace of calm. "You... but..."

It turned to run, but was stopped by a thin blast of ki straight through its head.

Bulma winced as the thing fell to the ground with a wet thud, though her eyes never left Isaka, even as he lowered his hand and repeated the act on the other two that remained. Her heart raced, and it felt as though it was pure ice coursing through her veins. His face was so... impassive as he killed them. A true warrior. A ten year old, battle-hardened warrior.

 _Too young... her mind cried over and over. He's too young..._

When it was finished, the young boy's shoulders slumped slightly and he turned to his father. "Did you see it?" he asked quietly.

"Hai," Kakarotto answered as he let go of Bulma and walked in front of her.

Bulma swallowed. "See what?"

Isaka saw the sadness of the doppelganger's face. "They bear the mark of Frieza," he replied apologetically. "They were spies. If they had been allowed to report back that my mother was alive along with anything else they may have gathered..." The bright blue eyes pleaded to her - for understanding, for forgiveness. "I had no choice, Bulma-san."

Well that certainly shed a new light on things.

Kakarotto looked around before turning back to Isaka. "Go back and inform Laresk of this. More than likely, there are more where these came from," he stated firmly. "I will expect to have council with Laresk when I return."

Isaka nodded curtly. "Yes, sir,!" Then he glanced at Bulma and smiled. "I am sorry we were unable to spend more time together," he admitted somewhat shyly.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to do it again, then," Bulma answered, still a little shaky, but the affectionate tone was undeniable, getting an ear-to-ear grin from Isaka in return that revived the little boy she was growing very, _very_ fond of.

Another nod, and the boy took to the sky in a streak of light, leaving his father and the twin image of his mother behind.

After watching his son leave, Kakarotto went about the business of disposing of the bodies. After piling them one on another, he commanded Bulma to shield her eyes and fired a final attack at the heap large enough to completely vaporize them all.

"It's finished," he stated, and Bulma looked up to find that, just as he said, there was nothing left but a large hole in the ground.

"Thank God," she breathed softly, her nose wrinkling as the dust settled. "I still wish Isaka hadn't killed those guys, though."

Kakarotto raised an eyebrow. "Why not? He is the future leader of this world, Bulma, and he must be prepared to defend it at all costs. It is necessary that he understand that."

"But," she cried helplessly, "he's just a kid! And he looked so... _normal_ ... doing it."

"If it is any consolation, those were the first deaths by his hand," Kakarotto stated after a significant pause, his face thoughtful. "I have never required him to kill anyone, and I did not expect him to do it today."

Perhaps it shouldn't have made any difference, but the soft-spoken words actually did make her feel better. "I wonder why, then?" she asked herself under her breath. "I mean, I guess he knew they were a threat to Earth -" she reasoned before Kakarotto cut her off.

"He did it to protect _you_ ."

"Oh," was the only reply she could manage.

Their eyes locked once again, though Kakarotto's broke away after only an instant as his chiseled features stiffened in concentration. "Damn it," he cursed. "Apparently the blasts have attracted some attention. There are people coming."

Bulma blinked several times and glanced around nervously. "What should we do? Fly out of here?"

"No," he replied as he took her by the arm. "There is too much chance we will be recognized," he explained quickly as he walked her back into the inky shadows. "We must wait and hope that no one comes back far enough to see us." He drew his nondescript cloak around him, pulling his hood over his head once again. Bulma immediately followed suit as he drew her against him so that her back was turned away from approaching people, dipping his head down and leaning against the wall. He fought back the urge to put his arms around her thin form by fisting the material at his sides instead. "Stay quiet," he whispered as various voices began filtering in.

"Over there! I know I saw a bunch of smoke!"

The footsteps stopped, and she risked a furtive glance up and saw him take a similar look behind her.

Several indistinguishable murmurs. "I don't see anything back there!"

"It's too damned dark, you baka! Somebody bring a light!"

Kakarotto stiffened against her.

This was just like those cheesy black-and-white movies she used to watch with her mother, she mused. Dark alley... the strong man and his helpless dame backed in a corner, hiding in inky blackness... the mob thrusting lamplight haphazardly about in search of the source of commotion... Bulma's eyes widened as Plan B was formed. Who said nothing good came out of watching TV?

The handsome Saiyajin growled softly when the first streak of light invaded their pseudo-shelter. It was now or never.

 _If he doesn't die of shock, he's probably gonna kill me for this._

A deep breath that made Kakarotto's eyes go wide, then... "You saved me!" she bellowed in her best recently-rescued-damsel-in-distress voice. "Thank you!" And just as he opened his mouth to say... _whatever_ ... she grabbed each side of his hood, pulled his head down, and clamped her mouth firmly over his.

She didn't hear the jovial laughter or the appreciative wolf-whistles. She didn't notice the remarks of "Lucky bastard" or "Well, I think they've got this taken care of." She didn't register the light going off or the retreating footsteps amid soft chitchat.

She _did_ hear Kakarotto's sharp intake of breath when his lips responded to hers and a velvety tongue claimed hers in a frantic duel. She _did_ notice his arms snake themselves around her and pull her completely against his own firm body, one hand around her neck, the other pinning her at the small of her back. And she _did_ register that every nerve ending in her body from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes felt like they were being teased with tendrils of pure electricity.

It was several minutes before the two finally separated, panting heavily as they looked at each other through half-lidded, unfocused eyes. Kakarotto was the first to recover, his onyx eyes going so wide that Bulma could have almost mistaken him for the man he was in her reality. It was short-lived, and his eyebrows drew down once again, though the staggering disbelief within them did not diminish until it was overtaken by another emotion that made Bulma regret ever having put him that position.

Pain.

It was almost palpable as it brutally distorted the normally cool and indifferent visage into something entirely new - something that looked so _broken_ , Bulma realized, and her chest constricted seeing the all too familiar emotion. "I-I'm sorry," she choked, dropping her shameful gaze. "I never should have-"

"It is not your fault," came the unsteady reply followed closely by a ragged sigh. "And your method was... effective," he admitted tightly. "But we should leave now before anyone comes back."

Bulma nodded dumbly, wishing she had some eloquent words of sympathy or understanding and coming up completely blank. Instead, she let herself follow behind him silently as he turned on his heel and led the way back to the palace.

Isaka had done exactly as his father had expected of him to the letter, from informing Laresk of the potential problem they had discovered to alerting the guard and posting extra security on the grounds. None of it took very long, though, and he decided to visit his mother's garden rather than pace the floors waiting for Kakarotto and Bulma to return. He sat cross-legged in front of a small rosebush that had been his mother's favorite on days when she simply wished to enjoy a peaceful moment with a good book rather than under the fluorescent lights of the laboratory. Many of his fondest memories of her were right here as well, having secret picnics when he should have been studying or training. And they had many of their one-on-one talks here, so it had become his haven since her disappearance. Anytime he wanted to talk to her, he would focus his eyes on the thorny vines and crimson blossoms and pour his heart out.

It had been too long since his last visit, he realized.

"I'm sorry I have neglected my visits, Mom," he began softly, "but things have been... hectic lately. Frieza is coming. I know you always told us it was inevitable, but it is unwelcome news none the less, especially since" - he chewed on his bottom lip a moment - "you are no longer here. Dad and I have been preparing almost non-stop, and father is determined not to lose your home to the madman. I believe he will save us, Mother, just as I know you do. And he is much stronger now," he added. "Remember how I told you that the regeneration tanks no longer worked? The problem has been rectified, thanks to... well, you, actually."

Isaka smiled despite himself. "You see, that is the other remarkable thing that has happened. A version of Bulma Brief from an entirely different reality had an accident and was transported here. You are far more knowledgeable in the actual science than I, but from what I can ascertain, I think she was trying to go back into the past and change an event of some significance, but something went wrong, pushing her into this timeline instead." The smile faded slightly, and Isaka pulled absently at a few blades of grass between his thighs. "It has been hard on Father to have her here. She... she is so much like you, Mom. Her hair is a little shorter, and she seems... sadder than you were," he explained slowly, "but she had been very kind to me. And she knew many Saiyajins in her time," he continued, excitement making its way into his tone. "We have talked a great deal in the days since her arrival. She knew what it was that was happening to father when he lost control of his power again. She said that he had become a Super Saiyajin, and that it had happened to all four of the Saiyajins in her time, two of them half human like me," he added. "And she knew Dad. Is that not something, Mother? That you and Dad have found one another in two versions of time? You did not have me, though Bulma-san does have a son named..." He went through the names she had mentioned before coming up with the right one. "Trunks was his name," he stated surely. "And his father is - this is unbelievable if you ask me, but it is what she said - the Saiyajin Prince, Vegeta. The other two Saiyajins are Dad and his son, Gohan."

"I cannot help but wonder," the boy mumbled, "what it is like in her time. A time where there is no threat of Frieza and my father isn't ruler of the planet. A reality where he had never been ruthless or tyrannical. Of course," he added as an afterthought, "she told me that her reality's version of my father, she actually calls him Goku for some reason, is dead."

He looked up as soon as he sensed his father's ki approaching. "Speaking of Dad and Bulma-san, she has agreed to help us get ready for the oncoming invasion rather than going home immediately. I pray it is not a mistake, but I am eternally grateful that she will be with us in our darkest hour. It is almost as though you will be with us." He took a deep breath, biting back the moisture building in the corners of his eyes. "And you always told me when the three of us are together, nothing can hurt us."

His father's ki was close now, and he stood quickly, dusting himself off before glancing at the twining bush one last time before returning to his quarters until summoned by his father. "I have to meet with Father and Laresk presently, but I promise that I will visit again soon. I love you, Mom, and I miss you very much. I still look at the picture you gave me everyday, and..." he hesitated for only a moment, "I know that wherever you are, you will be with us, and you will protect us. Goodnight, Mother."

Far above the realm of the living, Bulma Brief bid silent goodnight to her son before considering what he'd told her.

"Goku..." the woman repeated softly, chewing on the end of her thumbnail thoughtfully.

Since her arrival in the afterlife, Bulma had felt so... useless. Stagnant. It was something she wasn't used to, and quite frankly, she had been sure after the first several months that she would die of boredom. She knew subconsciously that it was a gift to be allowed to keep her physical body in death, but it sure hadn't felt that way recently. At least the spirits that floated around the heavens were content, constantly busy doing whatever it was they did. She, on the other hand, had simply watched and roamed and helped out here and there when something malfunctioned.

Monotonous to the worst degree.

It was these brief moments when her son would talk to her that had kept her sane through it all. That was a true advantage, and she cherished every word he said, whether it was venting frustration or crying so hard that he became ill.

But this situation that he had described... well, _this_ was something indeed.

So her theory of parallel timelines had been correct, she noted negligibly to herself. The fact that it was Bulma Brief that proved it seemed almost like destiny in her mind, though her heart was conflicted about whether or not it was a good thing. On one hand, there was no denying that Isaka had sounded wonderful this time, almost like he was the last time she tucked him in for bed. On the other hand, there was Kakarotto.

 _How has her presence affected you, my love?_

She knew his torment intimately and could only imagine what having a stranger that was, in essence, his dead mate around was doing to him. Isaka had said it was difficult for him, but she was sure that the assessment was a grave understatement. And Kakarotto would never let Isaka see the true depth of his loss; his pride would never allow it. For the first time in over a decade, he had been forced to face everything alone once again, and Bulma had been overjoyed when she saw that he hadn't reverted back to the cruel leader he had been once upon a time. He was more introverted, but he was still fair and decent. And he had been amazing with their son - something Bulma had feared more than anything else.

But now, Frieza was being added into the equation, and Bulma didn't like the math when that got factored in. In the end, something was going to give, and she wasn't willing to risk the welfare of Kakarotto or their son to find out where that weak link would be.

"Yes, Isaka," she declared stubbornly, "I will protect you and Kakarotto, no matter what the cost."

With a real purpose for the first time in a year, Bulma got up from the desk she had been sitting at and strode purposefully through the large archway and into the massive room it led to, her determined cobalt eyes searching the room for the one person she knew could help her.

"Well, finished with that gizmo already, eh?" came the friendly voice, followed soon after by the form of an aged, denim-clad man in outdated shades.

"Yesterday. Actually," she replied steadily, jogging to meet the Grand Kai halfway, "I have a favor to ask. You see, my mate and our son are in danger, and I think there may be someone who can help me... if he wasn't sent down there" - she jerked her head to the floor - "and had his memory erased."

The white-haired man shrugged. "Depends. There's lots of people that come through those gates, ya know."

"This one would be a Saiyajin," she offered hopefully.

"Hell. No doubt about it. Evil, the whole lot of em."

Bulma felt her chance at doing something again slipping through her fingers. "Damn," she groaned helplessly. "Figures tracking down this Goku would be -"

"Hold on a second!" The old man grinned. "You're looking for Son Goku?" She blinked, then nodded emphatically. "Well, why didn't you say so! I keep forgetting that fella's one of those Saiyajins, ya know. A true exception to the rule, that one is," he went on, not noticing that the blue-haired woman in front of him was fidgeting impatiently.

"Well, how do I find him? Can I even contact someone who's a spirit?" she questioned, holding a breath... just in case.

At this, the geezer laughed. "I wouldn't worry about that, though I'll bet my Camaro the Northern Kai wishes that boy wasn't still flesh and blood, much as he eats!"

This was too good to be true, and unimaginable she had to admit, considering that she was quite sure her mate wouldn't be given such rewards for anything he had done in his life. Reformed, he may be, but there was no making up for some of the sins of the past. "You mean... this Saiyajin called Goku kept his body?"

"Yep."

"And he's with the Northern Kai?"

"More than likely. If not, just wait till chowtime, and he'll show up."

Before the poor fool knew what was happening, Bulma grabbed him and placed a loud kiss on his cheek, making the man blush brightly. Then she sprinted back the same way she had come in.

"Uh, Bulma?"

She stopped just past the doorway and peeked back in. "Hm?"

A wrinkled finger pointed to the other side of the room where four plain wooden door stood closed. "If you go through the first one, it's a lot quicker."

"Oh. Thank you!" And with that, the woman ran past him and bolted through the door. As the sound of a startled cry met his ears, the Grand Kai shrugged noncommittally.

"Whoops. Guess I forgot to warn her to watch her step."

Goku and Vegeta were sitting at the rectangular table in the middle of Kaio-sama's house, packing down massive amounts of food in relatively silence. Vegeta was tired, frustrated, and - damn this infernal dimension to hell - sorely missing his gravity room, while Goku, though fatigued and disconcerted in his own right, was also sporting a nasty headache.

They had spent an entire day rotating between Saiyajinism 101 and continuing their search for Bulma, and Goku was mentally exhausted. Sure, he comprehended everything easily enough, but the proud prince had been slow to get to anything that seemed practical in Goku's overstuffed mind. The history was interesting, no doubt about that, and the instinct stuff - hunting, mating and sex in general, blood-lust, and born need to travel to places unknown, just to name a few - had explained a lot. Still, he didn't really care about all that. What he needed was to know how to handle it, and so far, Vegeta had been rather close-lipped about that.

 _Sadistic bastard. He loves seeing me sweat it out, I'm sure._

Still, it had passed the time and seemed to bridge a little more of the gap between himself and the impenetrable prince, and for that he was thankful. Especially since it didn't look like Vegeta was gonna be going home anytime soon.

 _Face it, Goku. You've covered over half of the universe, and there's no sign of her anywhere._

He pushed the defeated voice in his mind down with a low growl. He wouldn't give up on her. Not yet. Hell, not ever. He'd known Bulma too long and owed her too much. Somehow, he _would_ find her and bring her home.

 _And how do you plan to do that when you have no idea where she is?_ the damnable voice mocked. _It's not as if she's just gonna fall out of the sky..._

He stuffed an entire steak in his mouth and chewed it angrily just as a sound caught his attention.

A scream.

A shrill scream, at that.

He swallowed his bite quickly and concentrated on the ki signature since it was obvious whoever it was was headed for them, and there were few people who came to Kaio-sama's place for a routine visit. More than likely, he reasoned, he'd know whoever it was.

And if it was Princess Snake again, he was outta there.

One second to recognize it, and though it seemed a little strange, it was still unmistakable. The next second, and the piercing wail left no doubt. He stood quickly, drawing a scathing glare from Vegeta and a curious look for King Kai.

"Fool, what -"

"It's her," Goku answered as he looked skyward and saw a dot in the distance falling fast.

"What?"

"The scream," Goku groaned as the man raised an eyebrow, then remembered that his senses were more sensitive in this realm than Vegeta's. "Listen for a second, and feel for a ki."

Vegeta grunted as he finished a biscuit in one neat bite. Then his thick eyebrows dipped down before shooting to his hairline. He was on his feet immediately, looking up at the sky and the increasingly evident female form coming down like a shot.

And what had that evil little bastard part of himself just said about her falling from the sky?

He couldn't stop the grin the made its way from one side of his face to the other. Finally! After days of nothing, she was heading straight for them. Goku wanted to laugh, dance, hell, he would even sing...

"Well," Vegeta's irritated voice cut in, "are you going stand there and stare like an idiot, or are you going to collect her before she decimates my eardrums and creates a crater on the Kai's newly acquired planet?"

Oh shit... yeah, he should definitely do that before breaking into song, he realized, and quickly moved to intercept. It wasn't until he was halfway between the ground and his best friend that his previous relief finally made way for good old-fashioned observation, as well as the sudden, gut-wrenching grief that came with it. Immovable above long aqua locks waving chaotically around her face was a glowing, golden halo.

He was too late.

Bulma wasn't sure if the curses running through her head faster than she was descending made their way to her mouth as she screamed or not, and she really didn't care. All she knew for sure was that when she did finally get back on solid ground - she wasn't about to open her eyes and see if there was any in sight - it was gonna hurt like hell, and that she didn't care who the blasted onore that put in this predicament was. Next time she saw him, he was one dead deity.

And suddenly there was someone beside her. She instinctively reached out, winding her slender arms around broad shoulders as two strong hands shifted her slightly so that she was comfortably cradled against a contoured chest like a small child. She kept her eyes clenched shut and simply held on as the air rushing around them slowed, and she felt more than sure they were no longer falling but floating instead. Then she felt the blood begin to color her cheeks after she snuggled unconsciously against the powerful, cotton-clad body. A distinctly male body.

 _Oh..._

She could count the times on one hand any man had held her so tenderly, so protectively, and all of those belonged to the same one. And it had been over a year since she'd had the pleasure of that. She had nearly forgotten how amazingly wonderful it felt.

Her next thought was how desperate she had to be to be getting hot and bothered just sitting in the arms of complete stranger.

"Bulma?"

She gasped sharply. _What?!_

"Bulma, look at me," he pleaded softly into her hair.

She obeyed, pulling her head off its comfortable perch and lifting her eyes to meet glassy black orbs filled with sorrow. "Oh... oh gods," she breathed shakily. "You... how..." She saw confusion cut through the sadness for a moment. "Never mind, I don't care how you found me," she stated giddily even as the tears began building in her eyes. "I've missed you, Kakarotto."

The man blinked stupidly. "Huh? Bulma, did you hit your head on the way down here or something?"

The woman scowled for a moment before her moist eyes rolled in exaggerated impatience. "Alright, point taken. No mushy stuff," she conceded as she squeezed him tighter.

He stared uncomprehending for a minute before shrugging. "I don't have any problem with mushy," he replied awkwardly. "You know that better than anybody." Another concerned frown. "We better get you on the ground so you can lay down. You're not acting like yourself."

"Well excuse me for being sentimental!" she cried indignantly. "Hell, it's not like I haven't longed to see you and Isaka again every day for the past year or anything."

"A year? Bulma, I've only been dead for a couple of months," Goku offered tentatively. "And who's Isaka?"

Bulma gaped for a minute before her entire face became enraged. "You're impossible! How can you ask me who our son is? If I didn't know better -"

"Hold on," Goku interjected firmly, though his face betrayed growing anxiety. "I think I missed something, and you know I'm not the smartest guy around so bear with me if I'm a little lost. Why did you call me Kakarotto a minute ago? And what do you mean, _our_ son? I mean, not that you weren't like a second mother to Gohan... or do you have me confused with Vegeta and you meant Trunks?"

 _Gohan... Vegeta... Trunks?_

Her son had said that the version of herself that was with him now knew Kakarotto in her timeline as well but called him by a different name... Still, she hadn't been prepared for _this_.

"You're Goku," she whispered in awe.

He caught her off-guard once again as the familiar face broke into a very unfamiliar, boyish grin. "Of course it's me," he answered good-naturedly. "Wow, you had me worried for a minute there, Bulma! You sure you're okay?"

Well, this was certainly embarrassing, not to mention extremely strange. "I'm sorry, K-Goku, it's just..." Oh boy. This was gonna take some explaining.

"Stop hovering there like a fool and put her down!"

Bulma's eyes widened at the guttural command, and she twisted to see the speaker, nearly losing her grip when her eyes met those of the irritated Saiyajin Prince. She choked when Goku laughed amicably in reply.

"Oh yeah, guess that would be a good idea," he answered before looking down at her again, "unless you'd rather I carry you inside."

"No!" she cried, pushing herself out of the tall warrior's lenient grasp and almost stumbling as she stood on shaky legs. "I can walk, thank you," she amended as she saw him shift uncomfortably.

"Of course she can," Vegeta added roughly, throwing a glare at Goku before turning his stern attention back to Bulma. "Where the hell have you been, woman? Rather than training, I have been forced to assist this infernal idiot in scouring the entire universe for you."

Bulma's glare could have cut through steel. "Excuse me, but isn't there a corner in hell somewhere you should be lurking in?"

Goku choked, but Vegeta only lifted an eyebrow and smirked. "I do not believe you have ever used that particular insult before," he observed evenly, "but it does not answer the question."

Before the unhappy woman could launch another verbal assault, Goku stepped in. "Actually, Bulma, I'd like to know what happened, too. Was it the time machine exploding, or did something else happen? I mean, I had King Enma check the records to see if you'd come in, and I'm pretty sure he would have remembered you, especially since you've kept your body like I have," he continued. "It's not like that happens very often, ya know."

"Huh? Damn it, Kakarotto, what are you -" Vegeta began, but stopped suddenly. He had been so caught up in the fact that she was found and his own damned - dare he say? - relief that he had completely missed the obvious. His eyes widened a fraction as he took the opportunity of feeling unable to speak to actually look the woman over, though he had a hard time at first tearing his eyes away from the blatant proof of her demise - the halo. Still, when he did manage it, several things caught his critical eye. For one, the woman's hair, still faerie-fire blue, was layered softly and cascaded halfway down her back which was much longer than the shoulder-length crop she had sported when he last saw her. Her build was more athletic, too, as if she'd been working out as she did when he first met her. And there was the scar on the slope that connected her neck and shoulder, twin crescents that, when he narrowed his eyes and studied them hard, looked identical to - _what the fuck?!_

"Woman," Vegeta rasped harshly, pointing to the silvery-pink mark, "how did you get that?"

Bulma's hand immediately rose to her neck, and she traced the slightly raised flesh lightly as Goku craned his neck to get a look of his own. When he saw it, he balked. "Whoa, Bulma! It looks like someone bit the hell outta you."

At this, she turned to Goku and her eyes unconsciously looked to his neck as well, eyebrows raising quickly when she saw nothing there. Isaka had said he had a mate and a child of his own, after all. "Before I answer anything, I need to tell you exactly who I am and what I know. I think we'll all be a lot less confused once that's over with," she stated firmly.

Vegeta growled, but Goku just shrugged and put his hand behind his head nervously. "Uh... okay, Bulma. Whatever you say."

Oh boy... how the hell this guy could look identical to her mate and be so completely different, Bulma had no clue. "Okay, first of all, I'm not the woman you guys are looking for, but" - she eyed Vegeta sharply when he huffed - "I think I know where she is." And now the question was where to begin. "How much do you guys know about parallel timelines?"

An uneasy look shared between the men.

"I guess that means you know something, at least," she went on, unfazed. "From what my son told me, the Bulma of your timeline made a time machine, but by some set of circumstances I know nothing of, ended up in my version of the present rather than traveling to the past. With me so far?"

Goku nodded slowly, but Vegeta shook his head stubbornly. "Woman, that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, and considering present company" - a quick look at Goku - "that is not to be taken lightly."

"Do I look like I give a rat's ass what _you_ think?" she hissed defensively. "I have no idea what you're doing here in the first place, and I can only thank whoever planned the fate of my timeline that Kakarotto removed you from it long ago."

 _That got everyone's attention._

"Wait a minute," Goku began hesitantly. "You mean that I killed him where you're from?"

Bulma nodded. "Of course. He and the brute he had with him killed a lot of people, including Kakarotto's brother. Isaka was devastated when he found out about Radditz, too," she recounted bitterly.

Goku decided to sidestep the whole Radditz thing altogether for the moment and risked asking about the other one, pretty sure she wouldn't bite his head off at this juncture. "And who's Isaka again?"

"My son."

"Oh!" Then Goku's brow furrowed. "But... when you mentioned him before, it almost sounded like... well, like you thought he was... you know..."

"I said he was our son," she supplied matter-of-factly. "I apologize. I said that because I thought you were my mate. I wasn't thinking straight at the time," she offered as a hasty explanation.

"But your mate is Saiyajin," Vegeta added gruffly. Now that he had entertained the notion that the woman's words held truth, he was quickly putting two and two together, based both on her reactions to him and to the fool hovering beside her.

Though Bulma still scowled, she forced herself to bite back the long list of nasty remarks she could say. "Obviously."

"Hn. It seems the gods have managed to create a hell for me, even up here," he growled angrily, though he forced his face to remain blank.

"What d'ya mean, Vegeta?" Goku questioned, totally in the dark.

Vegeta snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. "It appears that in her reality, the woman is mated to _you_ , Kakarotto."

"Mated... to me?" Goku repeated dumbly, shifting his gaze between Vegeta and Bulma. After a tense moment, Goku began laughing so hard it nearly shook the walls of the nearby house.

Bulma threw her hands in the air. "Is he always like this?" she asked Vegeta warily.

Vegeta's lip curled upward slightly. "And your mate was not?"

Bulma moaned in defeat and sat down to wait for Goku to calm himself down.

 _It's gonna be a long night._

End Chapter Nine


	11. Chapter Ten

_Special thanks to BluEydMnstr for another great beta job._

 **Chapter Ten**

It took a little while, but Goku finally managed to calm himself down, much to Bulma's immense relief. She couldn't help her mate or their son without Kakarotto's alternate self, and the thought of her only possible alternative - Vegeta - was unacceptable in her mind. She didn't give a damn that Goku seemed to trust him; she wasn't about to ask him for anything. Now her problem was how to make this man that seemed so different from her own Kakarotto understand? There was so much to tell, and very little time to do it.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow as he observed Bulma from his place several feet away. As if reading her mind, he uncrossed his arms and turned his attention to his fellow Saiyajin. "Kakarotto, you will need her memories before we can proceed."

Bulma gasped sharply and turned her wide, questioning blue eyes towards the stony Saiyajin Prince, both from hearing Vegeta voice the very same thought she had kept silent and the sheer idiocy of such a statement. Then, to her even greater surprise, Goku nodded as though it were the most obvious solution in the world.

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," he replied, all traces of humor suddenly vanishing from his face.

Bulma blinked several times. Moments earlier, Goku was laughing his ass off like a small child who'd heard a good joke, and now... It was like a light switch being flipped. In the time it took her to breathe, his entire demeanor had changed to one that was much more familiar to her, though it seemed to do little for his intellect, she mused sourly. "What are you two talking about?" she cried, throwing her hands hopelessly in the air. "Just because I'm mated to a version of Kakarotto in my timeline doesn't mean that Goku will be able to use our bond," she pointed out impatiently. "I would think you of all people would know that."

"I am well aware of the bond's limitations, woman," Vegeta responded evenly.

"Yeah, I won't use the old bond," Goku assured her casually.

Bulma threw wary glances at the two. "I don't know about this," she murmured uneasily. Sure, she needed him to know what was going on, but it didn't change that fact that Goku seemed a little too unpredictable for her to feel comfortable with him attempting to do anything related to being inside her head. Besides, she was aware that their race held greater telepathic abilities than most humans, but it was only strong enough to do what they were suggesting with a mate or child. Had her Kakarotto been able to read anyone's mind, he would have done so any time one of Frieza's spies was apprehended, and lord knows it would have saved many lives in her reality. Still... what choice did she have?

Vegeta smirked caustically. "Your concern is pointless," he stated matter-of-factly. "You have no other option."

It was the second time he had spoken her inner thoughts out loud, and that was two times to many for her liking. "Stop doing that!" she cried, her voice tinged with anger and confusion as her eyes flashing dangerously. "What the hell do you know? You know nothing about me!"

"Hn." Then, before Bulma had a chance to move, Vegeta was directly in front of her, deep obsidian eyes boring into hers meaningfully. When he spoke, his words were a mere whisper that Goku had to strain to hear. "You are very similar to the woman of our time, and I assure you that I know the mother of my heir quite well. It is you who is unfamiliar with me."

Bulma opened her mouth but found she couldn't come up with a good reply to that simple truth. And as if cued, her mind suddenly recalled Isaka's words: the Bulma Brief of their timeline had a son that was half Saiyajin as well, but that boy - Trunks was his name, she remembered - wasn't Goku's child. It was Vegeta's.

Seeing the mixed emotions sweeping her delicate visage, Vegeta stepped back and took his typical defensive stance, though he did not release her gaze. "The only way we can bring the woman back is if you allow Kakarotto to look within your memories," he continued gruffly. "You will find that his abilities are sufficient to perform this task."

Goku could tell she wasn't totally convinced of that last bit, so he took the opportunity to turn her around, though he had to lean down so that their eyes could be level. "Listen, I know this is kinda strange. It is for me, too, but there are a lot of people down there" - his eyes darted downward - "that need Bulma. Her parents, her son, and my son, too... I have to get her back home, but I can't do it without you. And I can tell that you wanted something from me, right?" Bulma nodded slowly. "Then let's help each other out. I promise, I wouldn't do anything that might put either of you in danger. You have to trust me, Bulma. If you can do that, I'll handle the rest," he implored honestly as he rested his hands on her shoulders. "Do you think you can do that?"

If there was one thing she had learned through countless years of senseless violence and endless espionage attempts, it was that she should never trust anyone she didn't know intimately. She had taken that to heart, only confiding in those who had proven their loyalty to her repeatedly. Hell, it was well after Isaka was born that Bulma began to trust her own mate entirely. She had loved him with everything she was, but she had also learned early on in their unusual relationship that love and trust were two very different things, and contrary to what she had been told as a starry-eyed little girl, it was very easy to have one without the other. She remembered the first few tense years vividly. It took her a while to learn how to explore his thoughts and feelings through their mental link, and it took even longer for him to allow her total access to everything within his mind. It had been more than worth the wait in the end, she knew, but it didn't change the fact that she had mated and had a child with Kakarotto, and she wouldn't have let him do this to her for the first several years she had known him, let alone the first hour. So why should she believe Goku now?

The voice in the back of her head was quick to correct that thought. It wasn't really about why she should trust him. The real question that plagued her was why she already did.

"Bulma?"

Bulma licked her lips anxiously, but she couldn't make herself look away. Even the most basic physical features that should have been identical to the Kakarotto of her time were almost unrecognizable on the warrior pleading with her now. The expression on Goku's face was one she hadn't seen on anyone for so many years... Onyx orbs that should have been narrowed and cunning were wide open and infinitely gentle, silently pleading for her help, for her trust, speaking more to her than any words could have and setting her spirit at ease in a way she knew she wouldn't be able to understand. Not yet.

For only the second time in her life, Bulma chose blind faith over proven fact.

Goku was already wearing a relieved smile before she had time to nod her head. "Thank you, Bulma." He straightened himself out, a thoughtful frown on his face. "About how far back will I need to go so that I can help Bulma and Isaka both?"

Good question. She considered for a minute. "If we're going to do this," she began softly, her cheeks coloring slightly, "you might as well start at the beginning. I think it's the only way we'll be able to figure out where the initial point of divergence is within the two timelines."

"I must be a lot smarter where you're from," Goku noted with an apologetic chuckle, "'cause you just confused the hell outta me."

"Fool, she needs to know what happened in the past that caused her reality to differ from ours," Vegeta growled irritably.

The younger Saiyajin scratched his head for a second. "So this is kinda like the difference in Mirai Trunks' timeline and ours when he changed our future by warning us about the androids and giving me the antidote for that heart virus?"

Vegeta nodded curtly. "As you will recall, his future remained the same while ours changed, although" - Vegeta's scowl deepened - "you were still unable to keep yourself alive."

"You know," Goku argued, a playful glint in his bright eyes, "by the way you talk, I'd almost think you've missed me, Vegeta."

Vegeta's arms tensed across his chest as he huffed dismissively. "Fucking asshole, my goal was to kill you with my own hands, and I was deprived of my right to do so."

Bulma felt her anger threatening to erupt at hearing such a blatantly aggressive comment towards someone as obviously kind and forgiving as Goku, but one look at the taller man stopped the budding hatred in its tracks. I'll be damned... She looked back to Vegeta and noticed the minute upward curve of his lips. What the hell kind of reality do they come from? They're almost acting like -

"Whatever you say," Goku answered, laughing before turning back to Bulma. "I get what you were saying now, Bulma," he reported, his entire attitude going back to serious so fast that it took Bulma a moment to process the switch.

"Wait a minute." Bulma took a deep breath and massaged her temple to try and slow her brain that seemed to be spinning out of control. "You mean this kind of thing's happened to you guys before? That's how you knew about alternate timelines?"

The Saiyajins glanced at each other, and Bulma couldn't get over the feeling that they were somehow trying to come to a decision without actually saying a word. A moment later, Vegeta turned his head to the side and snorted while Goku shrugged noncommittally. "It's kind of a long story," the taller man explained somberly. "A lot happened, and it'd take forever to tell you all of it. It's gonna take a while for me to get through all your memories as it is."

Vegeta's eyes narrowed critically. "Exactly how long? I've wasted enough of my training time as it is, Kakarotto."

"Well, if this works and the dead Bulma and I are able to figure out how to get to our Bulma, hopefully it won't take too long after that," Goku reasoned. "It's sifting through over twenty years of memories that's the trick. That's gonna take several hours, I'd guess. Then figure in the time it'll take for me to try and come up with what happened that made things change, and then -"

"Stop babbling and take me back," Vegeta commanded roughly. "It's obvious that you will not be available to spar, and I will not lose another day of training wasting my energy in this wretched dimension." When Goku looked like he might protest, Vegeta stopped him with a dismissive grunt. "You will inform me immediately when you've drawn the necessary conclusions and are ready to retrieve the woman."

Goku was satisfied with that, especially since Vegeta had a good point. There wasn't much he would be able to do until they figured out how to get Bulma back. And the Chikyuu-raised Saiyajin had a suspicion that Vegeta wanted to check in on Trunks, though he wasn't about to try and confirm that with the proud prince. Instead, he nodded in agreement and put a hand on the diminutive Saiyajin's shoulder. Then he turned and gave Bulma a wave.

"Be back in a flash!"

Bulma was gaping at the two, her face contorted with shock and rage. How dare they go off like this... there was no time! Didn't they hear a word she said? Did they think they could do whatever they pleased just because they were tough guys? Never mind that she had fallen God-only-knows how far to find Son Goku, but did he even care? And what the hell was Goku talking about, 'in a flash'? The fool was putting two fingers to his forehead and narrowing his eyes in concentration as though he believed that if he thought about it hard enough, he'd get where he wanted to go. She couldn't decide who she wanted to strangle more - Goku for acting so stupid, or Vegeta for going along with it. She'd been all over this realm, and she knew firsthand that it would take them at least two days just to get back to the check-in station, let alone -

The pair became a blur, then vanished before her bulging blue eyes.

Her jaw worked furiously, though her voice wouldn't come out for several minutes, making her look like a fish out of water. Of course, when her throat did manage to make a sound, it was loud.

"Damn them, I want to know what the hell is going on here!" she bellowed furiously at the top of her lungs to the empty planet around her - or so she thought.

"What's all the racket?"

Bulma spun around to find Kaio-sama waddling through the front door of the small house, a ruffled eye cover sitting lopsided on his forehead while he fiddled to straighten his trademark sunglasses. She blushed in embarrassment; she had forgotten that he would be somewhere around here. He froze when he noticed who it was that had actually made the ruckus and made several indistinguishable croaking sounds. Bulma opened her mouth to apologize, but she stopped short and her brow furrowed when she noticed that he seemed to come out of his initial surprise; he fixed his unseen eyes on a point just over her left shoulder and frowned, antennae twitching.

"Damn it, Goku, are you trying to see if you can scare Bulma back to life?"

"Sorry, Kaio-sama," came Goku's light-hearted reply from just behind her.

She did another full one-hundred eighty degree turn, ignoring the sudden feeling of light-headedness that came with it. "What... but you... how...?" Bulma stammered helplessly before her brain finally hit the breaking point. With a final unrecognizable squeak, the aqua-haired woman went limp and crumpled. Goku, having sensed that she was about to faint, was already there, and he pulled the unconscious woman into his arms, glancing at King Kai uncertainly.

The portly deity put his hands defensively in front of him, flailing them frantically. "Don't look at me!"

Goku looked down once again at the lovely woman lying cozily against his chest and sighed. "Ah well, I guess we'll start when she wakes up."

"How do you want us to proceed in light of this situation, Kakarotto-sama?"

The frowning Saiyajin stalked across his private chamber. Upon arrival, he found that Isaka had already gathered Serori, Laresk, and several officers of the army. It was a particularly burly, orange-skinned humanoid who was almost two feet taller than Kakarotto that had asked the question.

"That depends, Nesu. Has there been any intelligence that would have forewarned us of the presence of Frieza's spies on Earth?" Kakarotto questioned darkly.

Everyone in the room except for Isaka blanched visibly at the threatening tone, knowing that if anyone had known and hadn't told their leader right away, that very unfortunate individual would likely not be alive to see sunrise.

Nesu remained still, the sound of him clearing his throat the only indication of his nervousness. "There has been nothing, my lord. I have personally overseen the results of every watch since we learned that Frieza was en route. If they came within the past seven days, they are using a form of stealth technology to infiltrate our shields that we are unfamiliar with at this time."

"It is more likely that they have been here for some time," Laresk offered shakily. "If we check the registry, I'm sure -"

Isaka was already shaking his head. "I already have, Laresk-san. That species was banned from Earth two years ago after Mother intercepted questionable transmissions from a small colony within District 32. As soon as it was confirmed that they were part of Frieza's group, the ones who attempted to contact him were executed, and the rest were exiled."

When Kakarotto turned to Serori, the scientist's silver eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Perhaps they have been in hiding?" she mumbled after a short pause. "They could have gone underground to avoid being discovered until the time when Frieza planned to attack."

"It would have been difficult for them to remain undetected for any length of time," Nesu pointed out, "but I suppose that it is possible."

"Um, I don't mean to interrupt, but I think you're forgetting something?"

All heads turned toward the new voice coming from the adjacent bedroom. Laresk and Serori threw furtive glances at Kakarotto, who was scowling impatiently at the blue-haired woman entering the room. Nesu and the rest of his comrades, having heard of a newcomer in rumor only, looked as though they were seeing a ghost.

"This is not your concern," Kakarotto growled warningly at the approaching female.

Bulma stopped once she was beside Isaka, arching an eyebrow and placing a thin hand on her hip. "I can help you," she stated matter-of-factly. "Besides, it'll be my business if I'm not able to get myself back before that freak attacks you guys."

Isaka's eyes darted between the equally determined faces of his father and his mother's alternate self before taking a tentative step between them. "Bulma-san is right," he noted quickly. "There is very little time before his arrival, and she may have knowledge that can assist us in defeating the Icejin," he went on, his voice growing more confident as his thoughts came together. "He has already been destroyed in her timeline. Perhaps we should listen to what she knows," he suggested hesitantly.

The older Saiyajin's fiery eyes widened marginally. "Frieza is dead in your version of time?"

"Yeah, he's been dead for over three years," Bulma confirmed as she took another step towards the glowering Saiyajin. Her eyes stayed firmly planted on his as the distance between them was closed to within a few inches. "I can help you," she repeated meaningfully, "if you'll let me."

Nesu shifted uncomfortably, witnessing the bizarre scene unfolding before him. "Kakarotto-sama... I... I don't understand -"

Kakarotto's unblinking eyes never wavered from Bulma's. "Leave us," he commanded quietly, though his voice was easily heard within the entire chamber.

A number of apprehensive looks were passed between the other occupants within the circle, but none deemed it necessary - or healthy - to question the powerful warrior's order. Serori lead the way with Laresk and the small security force behind them, Laresk whispering that he would bring Nesu and his troops up to speed on Bulma's startling presence. Isaka was the only one that remained, and he waited until the room was clear before speaking.

"Does this mean you will allow Bulma-san to stay and help us?"

"We will see," Kakarotto conceded after a moment's consideration. "I would like to hear what she has to say on this matter." He finally looked away from the cerulean gaze of Bulma and moved his attention to the identical eyes that belonged to his son. "But I make no promises."

"Father, I really think -" Isaka began quickly, hoping, praying that he could sway the man's opinion.

A wave of a hand stopped the young demi-Saiyajin immediately. "I have said that I will consider it," he affirmed impatiently. "You will retire for the night," he went on, a small smirk curving his lips. "You have a rigorous training session tomorrow, and you will need your rest."

Isaka had almost begun to believe his father would let him go without punishment for his journey into the city, but he realized how silly that idea had been. And on the bright side, he reasoned, he needed to train anyway, or else his father wouldn't let him help fight against Frieza and his minions, either. With one last helpless glance at Bulma and a reluctant nod, the boy turned away and began walking to the open door.

"Good night, Isaka," Bulma called just as Isaka entered the hall. "And thanks... for what you did earlier, I mean," she added with a gentle, maternal smile.

Isaka blushed lightly and grinned back, inclining his head slightly. "You do not have to thank me. I..." His smooth brow furrowed slightly as he debated what he should say next. A fraction of a second later, he shook his head dismissively and let the rest remain unspoken. "Goodnight, Dad, Bulma-san."

As soon as the heavy door closed with a dull boom, Kakarotto's calm appearance fell away. He glowered down at the smaller woman, growling menacingly as he closed what little distance remained between them. "I will have you know," he hissed, "that if I had not given my word to no longer kill unless lives were at stake, you would be dead right now."

One of Bulma's thin blue eyebrows lifted skeptically. If Kakarotto was betting on frightening Bulma into submission, he was going to be very disappointed, and Bulma set her jaw stubbornly, placing her hands on her hips. "Even if you hadn't made that promise, you wouldn't kill me, so don't try to scare me with empty threats. I've been listening to them for years, and I know when a Saiyajin is bluffing."

"You are trying to involve yourself in things that are not your concern," Kakarotto seethed. "You have been treated as a guest, and I have been willing to overlook your curiosity into this reality. It... it was no more than I would have expected," he admitted under his breath, almost as if he were talking to himself, his eyes distant for a brief moment. Then he shook his head roughly to banish the thought away, and those obsidian orbs came back into focus. "But I will not tolerate anyone jeopardizing the welfare of my son."

Bulma shuffled guiltily and cast a furtive glance at the floor. "I didn't mean to put Isaka in danger. If I had known -"

"I warned you. I told you that you know nothing of us or our time," Kakarotto interjected impatiently. "You chose to ignore it."

"That's not true! I stayed up all night reading about this place!" Bulma shot back, glaring at the towering Saiyajin.

"And you assumed that a half-assed history lesson would prepare you for the dangers that lay outside these walls?" Kakarotto raged, his eyes blazing so brightly that Bulma unconsciously took a hasty step back, which he quickly matched with one toward her before leaning forward so that his eyes leveled with hers. "Damn it, Bulma! Earthlings who have not been genetically enhanced are not allowed within certain areas for a reason."

Bulma spluttered uncertainly for a moment before collecting herself. "And why is that exactly? Why should people have to be herded like cattle around here?" she asked indignantly.

"Because there are over seventy different species that inhabit this planet, and every one of them is considerably stronger than humans!" Kakarotto forced himself to calm down, closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath. "And it is especially dangerous for one such as yourself. Half of those creatures come from cultures that consider rape as an acceptable form of courtship, and it is not unheard of for an attractive woman who strays out of bounds to disappear without a trace. You see, it is widely believed that human females make excellent pleasure slaves because of their situational adaptability and their virtual inability to defend themselves," he added darkly. "And that is only if you were not identified as Bulma Brief."

"And if I had been recognized?" she countered. "Sounds like it would have been better for me to go into town as myself! At least those goons in the alley wouldn't have tried to attack me. I saw how scared that guy was when he saw my face."

Before Bulma knew what was happening, Kakarotto grabbed her arms as roughly as possible without bruising her, and Bulma gasped when he gave her a firm shake. "If they had immediately recognized you as my mate, they would have acted much more quickly, and I probably would not have gotten there in time! The one that tried to escape did not run simply because he identified you and Isaka." He gave her a moment to let it sink in, and when he saw comprehension within her stormy eyes, he allowed his grip on her to lessen.

"But... but Isaka - "

" - exhibited strength and ability beyond anything I had expected of him," Kakarotto cut in firmly, "but if the situation had happened differently, I do not know if he would have been able to protect you. Now do you understand the danger you put yourself in?"

Bulma swallowed before nodding resignedly. Kakarotto regarded her solemnly for another moment before finally releasing her, quickly stepping back and folding his arms over his chest. "Then I will trust you not to venture outside of this complex again." He held up his hand to stop her imminent protest. "Anything you need can be found here. I have already advised Laresk that you are free to explore these grounds, but anything beyond that is off-limits. Should I hear that you have violated my hospitality a second time, I will have you locked in your room until one of my technicians can repair your craft."

"You're out of your mind!" Bulma wailed derisively. "No offense to your expert staff or whatever, but there's no way in hell they could fix the time machine without me, and that would mean that I'd be stuck here with you guys indefinitely."

"That is true, but you would be safe and, more importantly, out of my way," the Saiyajin noted impatiently. "There is much to be done before the Icejin tyrant arrives, and little time to do it."

Bulma sighed in exasperation. "Fine! Fine, I'll stay here, but at least let me help you get ready for him!"

"No."

"But you told Isaka -"

"I told Isaka that I would consider it, and I have," Kakarotto replied sternly. "Tomorrow, you will go to the secondary engineering bay and begin repairing your ship, and you will have it operational before Frieza's arrival."

"And if I don't?" Just as she expected, Kakarotto spun around, his face contorted in a mixture of disbelief and renewed rage. She refused to cower in front of him like she knew anyone else would have - three years living under the same roof as Vegeta had schooled her in such displays. Keeping her own visage perfectly calm, she tilted her head slightly and shrugged. "Well, there's no guarantee I'll be able to fix it in time," she elaborated evenly. "I'm not even sure what happened. Working that problem out on its own could take weeks."

"Woman -"

"And then," she continued as if he hadn't even spoken and began making her way around the room, ticking each point she made off on her slim fingers, "there's the technology thing. You guys seem to have a lot of different stuff than what I used to build the thing. Finding replacement parts alone could take... oh, I don't know. If they can be salvaged from somewhere, a few days, but if they have to be manufactured from scratch, I'd have to draw up designs myself, and I'm not sure I remember all those measurements..."

"You know damned good and well you remember every placement of each individual nut and bolt and the exact color of every wire in anything you build, so do not pretend to be dense," Kakarotto sneered.

Bulma came to a halt and glanced over her shoulder, contemplating the strange and frighteningly accurate statement. "Normally, you would be right about that," Bulma allowed cautiously, "but I already told you that the time machine wasn't my original design, remember?" After another significant pause, Bulma made a sudden about-face and moved forward resolutely until she was the one forcing Kakarotto to step back, studying the familiar features curiously.

The confused warrior leaned back even further, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he snapped callously.

"I just realized something." Bulma continued staring at the man's guarded expression, her own face softening significantly as she drove on. "I thought you were angry because of what could have happened to Isaka, but so far, all you've really talked about is what could have happened to me. Why is that?"

The muscles in Kakarotto's jaws flexed erratically for a moment before he cleared his throat self-consciously and forced an indifferent gaze on Bulma. "I am the ruler of this planet," he replied tightly. "It is my responsibility to ensure the safety of those who are" - he smirked negligibly - " too weak to protect themselves and too arrogant to admit that they have that unfortunate shortcoming. Humans seem to have an endless supply of such traits."

Bulma leaned in another inch and smiled humorlessly. "Bullshit."

The increasingly wide midnight eyes blinked twice before Kakarotto snarled, retreating slightly before standing back up at full height. "I have given you my command, and you will follow it... to the letter," he growled menacingly. "Now I suggest you retire for the night. I will have Laresk collect you in the morning so that you may begin working on your ship."

"No," Bulma declined stubbornly.

"No?"

Bulma squared her shoulders defiantly and gave the stunned Saiyajin a curt nod. "That's right. I promised Isaka that I would help you guys get ready for -"

"I forbid -"

"- the attack, and I won't break my word to him. I don't give a shit what you command, Mr. Big-Bad Saiyajin. I'm going to stay, and I'm going to help whether you like it or not."

"Damn it, woman, I grow tired of repeating myself. I will not have this conversation with you again. I have made my decision, and you will abide by that if you wish to keep the freedoms I've allowed you!" Kakarotto shouted, his eyes boring into hers.

"Except we've never had this conversation before," Bulma stated sarcastically as she rolled her eyes, but when they fell back on the handsome fighter's form, she noticed that the tremendous fury was gone from him, replaced by something Bulma couldn't immediately place. His expression would probably seem blank to anyone who hadn't spent much time around Saiyajins, but for Bulma, it was startlingly familiar. It was an expression Goku had worn when something bothered him that he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was a mirror image of how Vegeta had looked since Son-kun died. She could only liken it to a weird hybrid of detached confusion and well-masked apathy, and seeing such a display on Kakarotto's chiseled features made her stomach sink to her feet. "I'm sorryi," she offered regretfully. "I guess you have had to say this all before," she added without thinking.

Her eyes widened as she remembered how he always reacted when her alternate self was mentioned... especially when she was the one to talk about her, so she was surprised when his body seemed to relax so much that she feared he might collapse. His eyes closed for a moment before he walked slowly over to the large bed against the back wall, sinking down onto it heavily and running his hands over his face.

Not sure of what to make of this, she took a tentative step towards him. "Kakarotto?"

"I have given that very speech, those very same orders, to Bulma Brief so many times over the past thirteen years, I can scarcely keep track anymore," he admitted flatly, "and it still was not enough to save her."

Unable to find her voice, Bulma gaped in undisguised astonishment instead. She had expected him to be infuriated with her once again, so she had been no more prepared for this than she would have been if Cell had suddenly materialized in front of her face and challenged her in hand-to-hand combat.

He continued speaking as his eyes glazed over in remembrance. "She would not let me go with her. She said that my place was here with our son. I should never have left her alone. My place was with her, and if I had been there, she might still be alive."

Bulma finally regained her wits and made her way to the bed. When she was directly in front of the slumping figure, she kneeled down so that she was eye to eye with him. "You're wrong. If you had been there, Isaka would have lost both his parents," she argued vehemently. "She probably considered what the risks were more than you realize, and she wanted to make sure that Isaka wouldn't be orphaned if something happened. I mean... I would have done the same thing if it had been me."

Kakarotto raised an eyebrow. "I have no doubt of that," he remarked dryly. "But her sacrifice will do little good if I am not capable of defeating Frieza when he arrives. He plans to destroy us all, and despite what I have told Isaka and Laresk, I suspect I am ill-equipped to stop him."

"Actually, you can beat him," Bulma replied confidently, "if you're willing to listen to a weak, arrogant, pig-headed woman like me."

Kakarotto drew in a deep breath before sitting up straight, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on top of battle-hardened hands that had threaded themselves together to form a semi-flat perch. The pain and anger he had surrounded himself with for so long was slowly melting away in the woman's distinctive presence, and he mentally shrugged at its passing... for the moment. It would be much easier to keep his mind clear and focused on the task at hand. "Tell me what you know."

In a smaller room down the hall, Isaka could feel the subtle changes within the stormy soul of his father even as he slept, and the smooth, childlike mouth curved into an unconscious, imperceptible smile.

End Chapter Ten


	12. Chapter Eleven

_Special thanks to BluEydMnstr for beta-ing!_

 **Chapter Eleven**

Goku wished he could let the obviously exhausted woman in Kaio-sama's bed rest a while longer, but something in his gut told him they were running out of time. He pushed off of the wall he had been leaning against and padded over to the slumbering figure silently. Now that he had a chance to take a good look at her, there were noticeable differences between her and the Bulma he had known most of his life.

He thought back to when Mirai Trunks first told him about his horrific timeline, and how he had tried to visualize what the boy's mother looked like, having lived in a reality where the androids terrorized everyone on the planet. This Bulma was almost exactly what he had pictured back then, minus a decade or two. He had to admit, even if he didn't need to help the people in both of their realities, he was curious to see what circumstances had shaped this woman's life.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, wincing when it creaked from his added weight, and put his hand on Bulma's shoulder, giving it a gentle shake. "Hey, Bulma, you need to get up."

The slight female curled on her side shifted and muttered unintelligibly, but she quickly relaxed again, her eyes still closed. Goku couldn't help but chuckle; she was really cute like this.

"C'mon, Bulma. We have work to do. You've gotta get up," he implored again, amusement clearly evident in his patient tone as he gave her another soft nudge.

When he saw a sly grin find its way onto her lovely face, his brow furrowed uncertainly. Before he had a chance to see if she was actually awake, she rolled onto her back and two surprisingly strong hands wrapped around his bicep and pulled him off-balance towards her otherwise prone form.

His reaction was a testament to the countless years he'd spent training his mind and body to work as a single, fluid entity; instinct told him to move quickly so that he wouldn't crush her, so with a combination of force and ki, he used the arm she was still tugging on and placed his palm flat against the bed. Using his legs to throw the rest of his body into the air, he made a shallow arc just high enough to go over her, using a slight energy upsurge to slow himself down so he wouldn't turn the antique-looking piece of furniture into a worthless, albeit cushioned, pile of wood and metal when he landed on the other side of her.

With an imperceptible 'oomph,' his acrobatic endeavor came off without a hitch as he landed semi-upright, propped on his elbows, with a good six inches to spare between the two of them. Then the awkwardness of their position hit him, and as his brain kicked in, his previous grace and agility went out the window. He clamored backward like a crab until the back of his head hit the headboard, his round, onyx eyes wide with confusion.

He reasoned that she must have, once again, mistaken him for the man she had been with in her timeline. _I think I'll just let her sleep, after all_. He swung his leg over the opposite side of the bed with every intention of getting out of there, and no one had to be the wiser. After all, she had been pretty embarrassed the last time she mistook him for her mate, so he figured she'd probably be beside herself if she found out it happened again. Just as he was about to hoist himself up, a soft murmur stopped him.

"Don't go."

Goku gulped nervously and glanced over. Bulma was still lying on her back, but her bright sapphire eyes were half open and regarding him lazily. She yawned once and stretched languidly before turning towards him, raising her head up so that her chin could rest comfortably in the crease of her hand. He opened his mouth, intending to tell her that she had the wrong Saiyajin, but she beat him to it.

"I know you're not him, just in case that's what you were thinking, but your reflexes are definitely just as good as Kakarotto's. Maybe even a little better," she stated, obviously impressed.

"Why did you do that?" he asked without preamble as he settled himself back against the dark wooden headboard.

"I wanted to see how you would react," she replied honestly.

Goku blinked a few times. "You were testing me?"

She nodded, making several locks of silky blue hair to fall over her shoulder. The stunned warrior suddenly realized that she was situated much like one of Master Roshi's pin-ups, and her clothes actually made her seem even more inviting rather than less so. Maybe it was the sleek, midnight blue bodysuit that clung to every curve from her ankle up, or perhaps it was the long-sleeved, white button-down she wore on top of it that went just past her hips; the fabric was thin enough that he was able to see an outline of the dark, sleeveless garment beneath it.

He hastily banished the strange thought and shifted uneasily, returning his attention back on what she had said rather than... more distracting things. "Why?"

Bulma shrugged. "Well, I figured you would assume I had mistaken you for Kakarotto again." She waited a minute, expecting him to acknowledge that he understood what she was trying to say, but when she realized Goku hadn't caught onto her hint, she rolled her eyes impatiently. "I wanted to see if you'd make a move on me," she explained.

"Huh?" Goku stared at her in blatant disbelief - he was careful not to let the stab of guilt show - for another moment. "You thought I was gonna take advantage of you?"

"No, not really," she admitted after a short pause, "but it never hurts to be careful. Besides, if I'm supposed to let you do your thing so you can root around in my head, I need to be sure I can really trust you, don't you think?"

"I... uh... yeah, I guess so," Goku conceded after a minute. Then, deciding that trying to figure out her rationale was pointless, he flashed his trademark Son grin in acceptance. "So I passed?"

"Not yet. There are a few things I want to ask you first." Bulma took Goku's silence as a cue to go ahead, and she took a deep breath as she quickly ordered the countless questions that were assaulting her mind. "First of all, what's the deal with you and the Saiyajin Prince?"

"Hell, I gave up trying to figure that out years ago," Goku answered with a chuckle. "He says he hates me and always goes on about defeating me someday, but I don't really think it's as important to him as it used to be. And he's not as bad as everyone thinks. When Vegeta first came to Chikyuu, he was a real bastard, but he's basically been one of the good guys since then. He's settled down a lot, and he has a son to think about now."

"So he came just like in my time, but you let him go?" Goku nodded dumbly. "Why?" Bulma inquired sharply.

Goku scratched the side of his head and shrugged. "Well, he was really beat up and couldn't fight anymore, so I didn't see any reason for him to be killed when he was defenseless," he said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"But... but he was a cold and ruthless killer!" Bulma exclaimed.

"Maybe so, but people can change, Bulma. I mean... everyone deserves a second chance, right?"

Bulma inhaled shakily and bit her bottom lip that had begun to tremble. "Yes, I suppose they do," she allowed quietly.

Goku waited a minute, watching Bulma battle back the sorrow that flashed across her face with concern, but she soon seemed to regain her composure. "Was that all you wanted to know?" he asked after another heavy pause.

"No, there's something else." Bulma shifted slightly. "Isaka told me that you have a son in your timeline..." she began.

"Yeah, his name's Gohan," Goku confirmed with a proud, affectionate smile.

"Right, but you don't have the mark of your mate on your neck," she went on critically. "Why is that?"

Goku's forehead crinkled for a second. "Oh!" he cried once he realized what she was talking about. "When I married my wife, I didn't know anything about the mating ritual," he clarified matter-of-factly. "And, truth be told, Chichi probably wouldn't have let me do it anyway, even if I _had_. She's not too keen on Saiyajin stuff, and lord knows if I had ever tried to bite her like that," he pointed at Bulma's scar, "she'd have chased me down with her frying pan and throttled me."

When he noticed Bulma's eyes bug out and her mouth fall open, he laughed. "Hey, she may be human, but lemme tell ya, if I'm not expecting it and can't power up in time, that cast iron hurts!"

"I see," Bulma breathed. It seemed almost unbelievable that a Saiyajin, even one as seemingly childlike as Goku, would allow himself to be bossed around by someone so much weaker than himself.

But the fact was... she _did_ believe him, and that was enough to let him proceed.

Goku cleared his throat apologetically. "Um... we really should get started," Goku stated tentatively. "I don't wanna rush you, but I don't know how much longer we have."

"You're right," Bulma agreed nervously as she hoisted herself into a sitting position, her eyes darting between the Goku and the bedspread between them. Her thoughts were already back to the task at hand: letting a virtual stranger into her head. As far as she knew, there was only one way for a Saiyajin male to accomplish that. He and Vegeta had both admitted that they knew her old bond with Kakarotto would be useless, so...

Goku shifted himself so that he was sitting with his legs crossed comfortably in front of him, and he tilted his head slightly as he watched the woman's face go from sickly pale to deep rose pink within moments. "Are you okay?" he asked worriedly. "You know, maybe we should wait until you've rested a little more -"

"No, that's not necessary," Bulma waved him off with a shaky hand. There were definitely worse things she could imagine than mating this version of Kakarotto. The man was certainly just as handsome, and she realized that she could probably even get used to his strange mood swings that sent him from infantile to imposing without warning. He was sweet, sincere, gentle, humble, powerful... And she had a feeling that life wouldn't be boring anymore with him around. As harmless as he seemed, he had a presence that she was willing to bet her precious laboratory attracted opposition wherever he went. Just the idea of no longer lingering around the Grand Kai's with nothing to do and no one to talk to but the heavily-adorned walls and that crackpot old man was enough to give her a measure of peace.

She still loved her Kakarotto, but facts were facts. He was alive, she wasn't. And even if, God forbid, he did die sooner rather than later, there was no way he'd be allowed to remain flesh and blood in the afterlife. He would be an unrecognizable spirit while she would remain basically carrying on as though she were still living, only in the realm of the dead; she had a hunch that Goku was facing the same fate with his own wife, leaving them both in similar predicaments.

 _So what's the problem?_ she asked herself. _We're both dead, and we both kept our bodies to move around this realm as we please. Surely he gets lonely up here with only Kaio-sama and that freaky monkey to keep him company..._

Bulma caught herself going over his relaxed form with a slow, inspecting gaze while a little place in the back of her mind contemplated whether the man's flawless body moved just as perfectly _in_ bed as it had when he had been forced to jump over it. With an inaudible gasp at the direction her musings had gone, she turned her eyes downward as blood rushed to her cheeks and neck. The room had suddenly become unbearably warm, and Bulma took a deep, steadying breath.

 _Well, they were going to have to come off anyway,_ she reasoned, _so now's as good a time as any._

With a final, bashful glance towards Goku's concerned visage, the tense female inched forward and folded her legs beneath her so that she was on her knees in front of him. Then Bulma's trembling fingers fumbled with the top button of her oversized shirt.

Goku watched in blatant bewilderment as one pearly button after another was undone until the shirt was open completely, and Bulma quickly pulled it off her arms and tossed it off to the side. She paused for a moment and looked at him again, this time more inquisitively than before. She leaned herself forward, staring at the mismatched shirts before reaching her hand out, her fingers grazing the soft orange material on top.

"You know, I've been wondering why you wear all this," Bulma murmured.

"I... uh..." Goku stammered as the woman slid closer still, now examining the texture of the navy training shirt. "I've always been more comfortable in stuff like this," he offered stupidly.

Bulma nodded. "And what does the symbol mean?" she asked as her eyes moved to the small patch sewn into the material.

Goku relaxed slightly. "It's the sign of the people I've trained under. This one," he motioned to the one in front of her, "is the sign of Kami-sennin, my first sensei. And the one on the back is Kaio-sama's."

Bulma blinked, locking her eyes with Goku's. "You were a student of Kami-sennin?"

"You knew Master Roshi?" Goku questioned.

"I'd never actually met him," Bulma explained, "but Kakarotto heard a great deal about him when he was a child. His human guardian had been trained by him."

Goku nodded happily. "That's right, Grandpa had been the old man's student years before we - sorry, I meant me and Bulma - met him."

"Is that who you learned that...that thing from? That thing you did when you took the Saiyajin Prince back to Earth?"

"Huh? Oh, you mean Instantaneous Movement! Nah," Goku answered, "I learned that technique from the people on Yardrat a while back, actually. They taught me while I was healing up after the fight with Frieza."

Bulma drew in a shaky breath. Now they were getting somewhere! "So Frieza really is dead in your timeline?" she questioned, leaning anxiously forward until there was only an inch between their faces. "Who beat him? And how?"

"Well, I beat him the first time, but I didn't kill him," Goku replied. "I was hoping if I damaged his pride enough, he'd back off, but that wasn't what happened. He fixed himself up and came back to Earth with his father in tow."

"And you killed him that time, right?" she pressed pleadingly. "It was you, wasn't it? Because if you tell me it was Vegeta that finally killed him, I think I'll-"

Goku shook his head. "No, Vegeta didn't personally defeat Frieza," he stated, "but he was a major factor in the fight, in a roundabout kind of way." He chuckled softly when Bulma's face became disgusted. "Look, it's really complicated. A lot's happened in the last year, and it'd take a while to explain." Goku grinned at the lovely woman's sudden crestfallen expression. "Hey, c'mon. Tell ya what," he offered, "once my Bulma's back home in my timeline and your family's safe in yours, we'll have all the time in the world to trade stories, neh? I mean, it's not like we're going anywhere, right? I promise, I'll tell you anything you want to know as soon as this is all over. Deal?"

There wasn't much room between them, but just enough for him to put his hand out in an attempt to shake and seal the deal. Rather than accepting, Bulma found herself staring at the innocent and friendly offering as though it were a foreign object. This man, this unbelievable, confusing man was really another version of her Kakarotto, she reminded herself. And knowing the two, Goku and Kakarotto, were actually one in the same at some point in the space-time continuum was...comforting somehow.

This is what her mate could've been, had circumstances been different. Kind, compassionate, genuinely loving. Her mate held those qualities, sure, but they were coarse and had taken a long time to develop, and that was only after several years of iron-fisted tyranny. Goku, on the other hand, displayed those characteristics as though they were second nature, while still maintaining his strength of body and mind when the situation called for it. The perfect mix of what she loved and longed for in her Kakarotto.

She had to know what happened in the past that turned one man into two very different people in their individual versions of the present. And not just to help him, or to help her family. She wanted to know, just for herself.

When she did finally take his hand, it was with both of hers, holding it gently as her fingers rubbed slowly over each digit. "It must be something incredible that happened to you," she whispered as she gazed beneath long lashes, "for you to become the man I've met here." She noticed his childlike expression and grinned coyly. "If you were anyone else, I'd probably be inclined to think you were dropped on your head as a baby, you act so different sometimes!"

"Well...I was, actually."

Bulma blinked a few times. "It," she chuckled, "it's just an expression, Goku."

"No, seriously," Goku argued matter-of-factly. "I fell in a ravine and split my head open when I was really little. Grandpa said a normal child would've died. He didn't know I'm not human, of course, so he thought it was a miracle when I was able to recover. I still have the scar though. See?" He leaned over and tilted his head, pointing to a small area where the thick sable strands didn't grow along a long, silvery gash.

"Oh my God," she breathed as one of her hands let go of his so her own fingers could run through his hair and over the scar, "that's it. That's where the timelines split."

Goku straightened back up. "You mean I didn't hit my head in your time?"

"No, you didn't. Kakarotto always knew he was Saiyajin, understood everything that meant as far as it went at the time. Everything since then has been an extension of that," Bulma whispered. She didn't understand why, but she was suddenly fighting a nasty case of disappointment.

She wanted to smack herself, knock some sense into her own head. Sure, she'd psyched herself up to do whatever it took to help her son, and she'd had misgivings at first, but now... Now she was wishing he hadn't found out like this. Selfish as it was, she'd believed, only for a few minutes, that she wouldn't be alone anymore.

Goku, on the other hand, was elated. "This is awesome! Now all we need to do is figure out how to tap into your timeline, grab Vegeta, and do our thing. We can have Bulma safely back home in no time. And then we can focus totally on helping your family against Frieza!" His smile faltered when he heard her sniffle, though he was sure she'd tried very hard to be discreet about it. "Hey, c'mon, this is good news, isn't it?"

"Of course it is," she agreed shakily, turning her face away, her eyes burning behind closed lids.

Goku rubbed the back of his neck nervously for a moment, unsure of what to do. He had no clue why she was so upset all the sudden. She'd been the one who'd demanded they getting things moving as quickly as possible, and he figured this revelation saved them a lot of time. So why was did she sound like she was about to cry? He wished he knew this woman better, or at least knew what she would accept as consolation as he saw the first tear fall onto his hand which she was still holding onto. Then again, she did remind him a lot of the woman he'd known the majority of his life, and the fact was he couldn't stand to see people unhappy, especially not ones he cared for so much.

So he followed his instincts; they'd rarely let him down before. "C'mere," he beckoned, pulling her forward until she was positioned cozily in his lap. She stiffened, but didn't protest as he wrapped both arms around her thin body and rested his cheek against the top of her head.

"Listen, I know you and I are basically strangers, but you're still Bulma to me," he assured her. "I want you to remember that. I'm your friend, and I'll always be here if you need me, alright? So don't look so down, okay?"

"Do you mean that?" she whispered. "That you'll always be here for me?"

He shrugged. "Sure I do. I mean, it's not like I'm going anywhere, right?"

She couldn't help but chuckle. Sure, the logic was simple, but true nonetheless. "I guess not," she replied. Which meant there would be time, after all.

Goku was relieved she seemed to be cheering up. "So, what'd ya say? Ready to talk to Kaio-sama about how to get to your timeline from here?"

She nodded against his chest. "Goku? Thank you," she added softly, "for everything."

Goku smiled and gave her a gently squeeze. "Anytime."

Neither Bulma nor Kakarotto had any idea how long she'd been reciting the history of her reality, with special emphasis on the various incidents which had made Son-kun into the powerhouse he'd become before his death. But now that it was finished, Kakarotto's mind was spinning with questions and possibilities, while Bulma was just plain exhausted.

They'd both shifted positions during her tale. First she'd moved from the floor to sitting next to him on the bed. Then he'd shuffled back, leaning against the headboard. She'd followed his lead soon after, and once lack of sleep had begun taking its toll, she'd let her head rest on his shoulder. When his arm began tingling from the awkward position, he'd instinctively lifted it, draping it over her shoulders.

It wasn't until Bulma sighed and her breath blew lightly against the skin of his neck that he realized how intimate their position become over the past few hours. He wasn't sure what bothered him more, the fact that he'd allowed it to happen, or that he rather enjoyed having her nestled against him in such a manner.

"You are obviously tired," he managed roughly. "You should lie down."

Bulma shrugged negligibly. "That's okay, I'm comfortable right here."

"What?" He stiffened. She didn't actually expect to sleep in _his_ bed, did she? Then again, she did seem completely drained, and he had to admit, his own reserves were running low too. He could carry her to her room...

He shifted slightly to give himself enough room to pick her up, but she quickly closed the gap he'd made. "Don't leave," she mumbled sleepily.

"I..." he stammered uneasily, "I was only-"

"I never got to do this with Son-kun while he was alive," she admitted sleepily. "So can we stay like this, just for a little while longer? Please?"

Considering everything she'd told him, he already knew he wouldn't be able to refuse her request, so he relaxed once again, letting her curl up in the crook of his arm. "I don't understand this man you've described me to be in your time," he stated after a moment. "He sounds like a weak-willed fool."

"That's what Vegeta always says." She shook her head against his chest. "But you're wrong. All those things you think are weaknesses are what made him the strongest man in the universe."

"If what you say is true, then I have no chance of accomplishing the same strength," he pointed out.

Bulma lifted her head and looked him in the eye, catching him off guard by their closeness; they were almost nose to nose. "I think you can," she stated confidently, "because you're him. All those things I loved about Goku are in there somewhere," she went on, placing her palm over his racing heart for emphasis. "You just have to believe it."

"Your Goku was suffering from brain damage," he croaked out, once he'd forced himself to ignore the feeling of her hand on his chest and the affection in her eyes. "I have no such injury."

Bulma grinned mischievously. "Want me to throw you down a ravine and see if we can change that?"

His coal-black eyes widened a fraction, until she started giggling. Of course, she was joking, he realized. It'd been so long since anyone had dared such a thing, he'd nearly forgotten what it sounded like.

"I do not think that will be necessary," he replied after a few seconds, and for the first time in over a year, Kakarotto let himself laugh. Genuine, unrestrained laughter.

Even as she chuckled, Bulma's insides were flip-flopping wildly. Seeing Kakarotto so at ease was like a blast from the past, one that tore her heart to pieces. There was no doubt in her mind that this man and Goku were one in the same, despite their apparent differences. Only Goku could laugh like that.

Their chuckles subsided, leaving them both slightly out of breath.

"It has been a long time since I have allowed myself the luxury of such humor," he noted solemnly. "My mate was the only one who could convince me to...'let go', as she always put it." He swallowed hard, his gaze burning into hers. "You are frighteningly similar her. Your wit, your stubborn pride...your smile..."

Bulma drew in a shaky breath as she felt his fingers trace her jaw line from ear to chin before stopping just below her lips. She could even see a flash of fear in his eyes as he leaned his head down until his forehead was resting against hers.

"You cannot comprehend how much I have longed for her since her death," he whispered.

Bulma bit her quivering bottom lip and nodded. "I think I can."

He closed his eyes, knowing he'd get lost in her bottomless blue orbs if he didn't. "You should get some rest," he suggested. "I have kept you long enough."

Bulma sighed softly. "Do you really want me to go?" she ventured tentatively.

"No," he admitted after a moment.

"Then why should I?"

His jaw clenched several times. Gods, she had no idea what she was doing to him at that moment, and it frustrated him to no end. If only she hadn't kissed him that afternoon, he wouldn't be so desperate to feel her lips again. "I...am finding it... increasingly difficult...to restrain myself when you are so close," he growled, though the hint of guilt in his voice was unmistakable.

He cupped her chin suddenly, making her gasp. Good, he wanted her to be afraid, wanted to make sure she knew the fire she was playing with. "Do you understand, Bulma? If you do not leave my chamber now, you will not be leaving at all," he warned.

Bulma had no doubt he meant every word. "Okay."

Kakarotto was surprised at the equal amounts of relief and disappointment he felt, though his carefully stoic expression revealed none of the inner turmoil. _It's best this way._

His eyes became saucers when her arm wrapped around his neck.

"I'll stay."

It was exactly what his mate would've said, and the knowledge shattered what was left of his already shaky self-control.

Before Bulma completely understood what was happening, Kakarotto had grabbed her and pulled her down until she was laying flat on the bed, quickly covering her body with his own. Then his lips claimed hers in a fierce, demanding kiss, stealing the air from her lungs and replacing it with an ache of desire in her chest so strong, she thought her very soul would crumble beneath it.

Kakarotto felt himself falling- _drowning_ -in the woman beneath him. The silken texture of her hair, the softness of her skin, the warmth of her mouth...even the thunderous beats of her heart enveloped him, tore his senses away from the anguish he'd suffered with for so long.

More surprisingly was his newly acquired recognition of qualities unique to this Bulma. Her taste was slightly different, and her natural scent was mingled with a hint of flowery perfume, which was something unavailable to women in his world. He would've expected to feel some sense of guilt or harbored some reservations after acknowledging such details, but he experienced none of those. Perhaps, subconsciously, his heart still wanted to see her as his mate, despite the differences, although it most likely wouldn't have mattered at that point.

The bottom line was he'd denied himself close contact with women before he'd met his mate, and he'd completely shut himself off from any female not in his employ after her death. Desire was an easy thing to ignore when there was no one whom he considering appealing, but those many months of solitude came crashing down on him in the presence of this unexpected visitor, as well as the regrets he'd buried away.

Even after he'd fallen in love Bulma, he'd rarely permitted himself to open up completely to her. Perhaps it was because he'd spent most of his young life trusting noone but himself, or maybe it was the idea of exposing any weakness which could make him vulnerable. In either case, he hadn't realized his mistake until it was too late to correct it.

There were none who knew about the guilt he'd harbored in his heart; he'd kept his mate-the most precious person in his life-at arm's length more often than not, never considering a day might come when he wouldn't be able to reach her at all. Had he known, he would've done so much differently... Of course, it was impossible to go back and change what was in the past.

As he pulled away to look at the woman who'd invaded his reality and dredged up all of the emotions he'd tried to forget, it felt as though he was being given one last opportunity to do what he had been unable, or unwilling, to do before. It was true, she was not the Bulma Brief he'd known, but she _was_ Bulma.

At that moment, it was all the reason he needed to make up for lost time.

Bulma didn't know what to make of the reflective expression on Kakarotto's face. Was he having second thoughts? "Kakarotto...?"

Just the sound of her voice alone, throaty and unsure, was enough to push him over the brink. There would be no turning back.

"Bulma, you do not know what you have done to me," he whispered.

His mouth covered hers once again, cutting her off before she could ask what he meant, and within seconds, she didn't care anymore. The only thing she wanted to focus on was Kakarotto. That act...that moment was important, for both of them. Even more for him than for her, she knew.

End Chapter Eleven


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

Bulma let out a yelp of surprise as her clothes were literally torn from her body and scattered carelessly around her. Kakarotto's own bodysuit fared no better, and she wondered for a split second what she'd managed to get herself into. As though reading her thoughts, Kakarotto once again pressed his body against hers, making her gasp at the sheer heat of skin on skin.

"They were in the way," he hissed in her ear.

She couldn't argue the point; had she known it would feel so good, she'd have probably done the same thing.

In total contrast to the hasty disrobing, his mouth and hands both worked over her with such painstaking care she was sure it was a perfected form of torture in the alternate timeline. His lips traced the graceful curve of her neck and teased the hollow above her collarbone. One of his arms wrapped around her waist and held her firmly while his free hand slid down the length of her body and back again in a measured stroke. He raked his fingernails lightly against her hipbone and tickled her side before tracing the delicate outside curve of her right breast. His fingers spiraled around lazily around it as his mouth made its way to the other one. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he took one ripe mound into his mouth while he massaged the other within his hand.

Bulma gasped and writhed under the combined attentions, and groaned even louder as a purr erupted from his throat. The vibration assaulted her nipple and added to the already erotic suckles and nips from his teeth and tongue. He continued on until she was sure she would implode, then moved his mouth to the other one while his hand slid under her bottom, lifting her up so that his erection rubbed against the sensitive flesh between her thighs. She cried out in impatient pleasure; his manhood moved like silken steel against her hardened nub, sending wave after wave of liquid fire through her belly. Every inch of her skin tingled, every muscle tensed in anticipation, and she held her breath. Surely soon...surely now he would end her suffering and slide into her, filling her with his body and spirit...

With a show of self-control which surprised even him, he ignored the painful throb emanating from his groin and continued his oral exploration. His tongue memorized the salty taste of her skin as it ran down the slope of her stomach; his lips worshiped the crease of her hip; his teeth nibbled on the tender flesh along her inner thigh. Without warning, he shifted slightly and hooked her legs over his shoulders. He felt her shudder as he took in a deep breath, immersing himself in the raw scent of her deepest desire.

She screamed and wove both hands in his ebony spikes as his mouth descended upon her womanhood, his tongue lapping and stroking roughly. Her back arched and her eyes rolled as he continued, back and forth, in and out and in again until the individual movements all blended into one chaotic sensation which drove her toward a level of pleasure she was sure would drive her to madness if it continued.

He smiled despite himself as he held the human woman just at the brink; she wailed, she squealed, and she cried out several words even he didn't use very often. He didn't think he'd be able to hold off much longer either-it had been a _very_ long time for him as well, he reminded himself-so he redoubled his efforts to give her what she wanted so desperately. With one final scream, she bent like a bow being strung as he felt her climax quake through her entire body.

Once the erratic spasms subsided enough for Bulma to regain use of her limbs, rubbery as they were, Kakarotto slid upward until they were face to face again. He crushed his mouth to hers in another feverish kiss as he positioned his manhood against her. She didn't have time to pull away to beg for a few more minutes to recover before he thrust into her. Legs she would have sworn hadn't the energy to bend, let alone lift entirely, wrapped instinctively around his waist, increasing both his leverage and depth. She wound her arms around each of his shoulders and clawed him, her fingernails mercilessly tearing at his back. Unlike Vegeta, who had often bitched about the habit by saying he could never live down the embarrassment of allowing a mere human onna to scar him, Kakarotto's throaty growl-purr intensified ten-fold.

Indeed, the pain of her nails cutting his skin and the immense pleasure building with every rock of his hips, combined with the smell of her first orgasm and his blood in the air, nearly made the brawny Saiyajin forget she _was_ only human. Had he closed his eyes even once, he was sure he would tear the otherwise delicate woman apart without realizing what he was doing. Knowing it to be true and therefore holding back his natural strength with every ounce of concentration he possessed, he kept his eyes focused on her face. It was both a blessing and a curse; she was truly beautiful, sexier than he remembered either Bulma to be. Her normal creamy complexion was flushed to vibrant rose and shining with perspiration, her eyelids fluttered as though she had little control over them, and her mouth stayed slack as she gasped, whined, moaned, and cried out his name.

 _ **My name, not Goku's. Mine...**_

Bulma screamed and thrashed once again as her second orgasm hit. The feel of every one of her muscles inside and out clamping onto him sent him over the edge. With a roar, he spent himself within her heat. He buried his face in the crook of her neck while his body jerked roughly in the aftermath of his own glorious climax. Then, finally, his superhuman strength failed, and he collapsed, moving aside just enough to avoid trapping her beneath his full weight. She didn't seem to notice; she rolled onto her side, fitting herself against him with a sleepy smile on her swollen lips. Then, just as suddenly as she'd moved to him, she lifted her head and leveled an unfocused gaze on him.

"Damn, I forgot, I better take a shower first, huh?"

His eyebrows rose slightly, as it was the only movement he could manage to express his confusion and annoyance. "Is it necessary? Or possible, for that matter."

She grinned and laid back down. "Probably not, to tell you the truth," she murmured, her words distorted by a simultaneous yawn. "But I know Saiyajins are really sensitive to smell..."

"Very," he confirmed, his mind too sluggish to elaborate further.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go ta-"

He readjusted just enough to face her, one arm grabbing her around the waist while the other moved into her hair. "No, I _do not_ want you to leave," he softly answered the unfinished question.

At the same time, a very small, ever vigilant place within his consciousness, the one which had delighted in hearing his name rather than that of his alter ego in her timeline, burst through the fog surrounding his brain with another startling and badly-timed realization. Unlike the other one though, this one made him feel as though gravity had increased very suddenly in his gut.

He didn't want her to go. He didn't want her to leave his bedroom; he didn't want her to leave his side. In truth, he didn't want her to go anywhere, period.

Once Goku and Bulma emerged from King Kai's house, they tracked him down and recounted what they'd discovered.

"So _that's_ what happened!" the portly god exclaimed once they finished.

"Yep, looks that way," Goku replied. "So now all I need to know is how to get there."

King Kai shrugged. "You can probably contact her telepathically from Grand Kai's place," he said after a minute's thought. "Then all you have to do is tell her to do the same thing she did before..."

"No, I mean I need to know how to actually get there," Goku repeated. "Frieza's on his way in the other time, and unless I can train the other me to become a Super Saiyajin and control it, they won't stand much of a chance."

King Kai's forehead bunched over the rim of his sunglasses. He remained silent for several long moments before speaking again.

"Sorry, Goku, no can do."

"Huh?"

"You can't just zip around screwing with the fate of a different timeline, Goku," King Kai explained, though his voice betrayed his own wish it wasn't so. "You don't know what kind of effect you may have on it. For all we know, you could make things worse!"

Bulma, who had listened avidly to that point, spoke up. "There is nothing worse than Frieza."

King Kai sighed. "Yeah, there was a time when I thought so too, but we all found out the hard way there are beings stronger than him. Goku died because of one of them."

The point seemed to steal some of the determination from the lovely scientist's face, though Goku seemed totally unperturbed.

"That's true, but the only reason everyone else is safe now is because of Trunks coming from his timeline to help us in mine," he pointed out. "Besides, I was gonna die from that heart virus anyway, but thanks to Trunks, no one else had to. Seems like a major improvement to me."

He grinned brightly at the gaping Kai. "So how do I get there?"

King Kai opened and closed his mouth like a fish several times before he made any sound. "You...you just can't, Goku! And it's not just the timeline thing. You're dead, remember?"

"So?"

"So you can't just come and go whenever you want!"

"I know that, but there's gotta be something somewhere that makes an exception when it's an emergency, right?" Goku pleaded, complete with puppy-dog eyes and pouty lips.

The diety was already shaking his squat head. "Nope."

Bulma clenched her jaw for a moment. Then with a deep breath, she stood, walked around the table they were sitting at until she was at the side of King Kai's chair, and dropped to her knees. "Please...there has to be something we can do," she begged below a curtain of blue hair which fell over her eyes as she bowed her head. "I can not just sit and watch as my world is destroyed. If we do nothing...my mate and my son...all of my friends and colleagues...they will all die..."

It seemed the sight of a helpless and needy woman was more persuasive, and King Kai cleared his throat for a moment. "Well...okay, maybe there's something we can try"-he waved his hands in front of him when Bulma jerked forward-"but I can't promise anything! And you two won't be able to go."

"I understand," she answered breathlessly. "I will do whatever I must to save my family."

Goku, on the other hand, looked confused. "But if I can't go either, who's gonna train Kakarotto and his son?"

"There is no need for Isaka to fight," Bulma cut in as though it was obvious.

Goku blinked a few times. "Actually, it's best to have more than one person doing everything. I mean, it's not like Frieza's gonna be alone, and his men are nothing to sneeze at. Even I had a lot of help when I fought him. If it'd been just me, there's no way I could've done it."

"So my mate will pick people to be trained with him," she shot back angrily. "I will not have my son face that type of danger. He would never survive!"

"Actually," King Kai cut in, casting a nervous glance at the irate woman, "I agree with Goku on this one. If you really want to get rid of Frieza and his men, the best way to go would be letting any Saiyajin there is do the fighting."

"But-"

"Look, I understand why you're worried," the god interjected, "but I don't think you're giving your son enough credit. Goku's boy ended up being stronger than his dad after the same training, and that's a kid that spent the majority of his life with a nose crammed in a book because his mother didn't want him to train at all. Gohan's a powerhouse when he's backed into a wall, don't get me wrong, but I'm betting your son-he's ten, right?-is stronger than Gohan was at the same age."

"Fine," she conceded furiously, "but on one condition. He may choose for himself whether or not to take part in the battle."

"Of course," King Kai agreed.

"Then it's in the bag," Goku added with a broad grin.

Bulma once again glared at him. "What do you mean, `in the bag'?"

"Well...he comes from you and me, right? How could he be anything _but_ a born fighter?"

Bulma's heart sank; Goku made an excellent point, much closer to the truth than he probably realized. She closed her eyes and tried to force back the gnawing fear welling up within her when she imagined her son in such a battle. "Then the only other thing I want to know is who will be training Kakarotto and Isaka, if not Goku."

"Well, there's only one option, isn't there?" King Kai answered as he looked to Goku, who nodded.

Bulma's sapphire eyes moved from one to the other, then became wide as saucer. "You...you mean... _absolutely not!"_

"Look, I know you have a problem with Vegeta, but-"

Goku shut up when Bulma rounded on him. "Kakarotto may do as he sees fit, but there is no way in hell I will allow my son to be taught anything by that...that..."

King Kai stood and made a move to calm the raging genius. "But Bulma, you're the one..."

"Actually, it's okay," Goku stated suddenly, his face alight as though he'd just had the best idea in the world. "Isaka can train with someone else. Actually, it might work out better this way!"

Both King Kai and Bulma froze rather comically and surveyed Goku. Then King Kai's mouth formed a round `O', and his head bobbed in agreement. "Yes, yes! You're right! He would be better!"

"Who? I thought there wasn't anyone else," Bulma inquired blankly.

King Kai acted as though he hadn't heard her. "Yes...yes!" he continued to mutter excitedly. Then, quite suddenly, his face fell slightly. "Um, Goku? You know she'll never agree to this."

"Don't worry about that," Goku assured him, his grin broadening. "I'll just to tell her until after he's here. I mean, it's not like she can kill me again, right?"

"What in all the hells are you two talking about?" Bulma demanded, furious to be excluded from something involving her son. "If this person is anything like the Saiyajin no Ouji, you can forget it."

"No, no, there's nobody else around like Vegeta," Goku commented with a chuckle. "Well, maybe Piccolo, but that's another story. No, I was thinking about getting my son, Gohan, to work with Isaka."

"Do you think he can handle it?" King Kai asked with a frown.

"No problem, just leave it to me," Goku answered with a thumbs-up and a wink.

"Well, I suppose that would be all right then," Bulma conceded after a minute.

Goku clapped his hands together and sprung to his feet, almost upsetting the table in the process. With an apologetic laugh, he put his hand to his forehead. "Okay, I'll get Vegeta and Gohan and bring them back here."

"Wait!" Bulma cried, also getting to her feet. "I want to come with you."

King Kai yelled, "Absolutely not!" just as Goku shrugged and said, "Sure thing." Bulma chose the answer she wanted and moved beside Goku amid a flurry of protest from the other.

Goku took her hand, gave her a nod, and said, "Hang on."

The last thing she heard was a string of curses stream from King Kai's mouth about stupid Saiyajins and stubborn women. Then her vision was filled with every color of the spectrum as they passed through something she could only liken to a funnel. Just as suddenly as it began, they were on solid ground once more. She blinked several times to adjust to the dimness; apparently it was just after sunset as far as she could tell. Goku seemed to be concentrating for a moment, then smiled.

"Wow, we lucked out! Gohan's the only one home."

He made his way toward the small cottage, and she followed, all the while surveying the area with a critical eye. In her world, no place still held the feeling of natural beauty and peace this home of Goku's held. There were no places where lush, healthy trees went on as far as the eye could see, nor was there thick carpets of grass or flowers that hadn't been planted by man. By contrast, the entire area surrounding Goku's house felt untouched by the evils of the universe, and she immediately knew why he'd chosen to live in such a place rather than a city.

They walked through the front door, Bulma more hesitantly than Goku, realizing for the first time his son might not know what to make of it if his dead father suddenly showed up. Goku, on the other hand, seemed not to think about it, or he didn't care.

Goku could feel Gohan was in his room, so he did what he would've done anytime he came home to announce his presence.

"Hey, Gohan, I'm home!"

He heard a cry of surprise, followed by one loud crash and several dull thuds. The boy must've had piles of books on his desk, Goku was sure. He smiled to himself as he heard his son tear out of his room and run down the hall.

"Dad! Dad, I knew it! I knew you'd come back!"

Bulma watched, a strange sensation similar to longing building within her, as she watched the boy pounce on Goku, wrapping his arms tightly around the man's torso. The first thing that struck her was how little he looked like his father. Unlike Isaka, this son was taller, and his hair seemed to obey gravity to some extent, though his bangs appeared to be the lone rebel, the telltale ebony spikes sticking every-which-way. He definitely had his father's smiling eyes though, and his physique was lean but looked well definted and powerful, even underneath the white button-up which seemed at least a size too big.

She stopped staring with a start when she realized Gohan was peering around his father at her. The look on his face became even more delighted. "Bulma-san! You're back too!"

It took her a second to remember he knew a version of herself and had obviously confused them. Before she could correct him, he let go of Goku and enfolded her in a similar hug which nearly cracked her ribs.

"I knew Dad would find you," he babbled happily. "Mom thought it was hopeless, but I knew he wouldn't let us down, especially not when it's you. I'm really glad you're home, Bulma-san..."

"I...I'm sorry, but..." she began, throwing Goku a helpless look.

"What? What's wrong? You are okay, aren't you?" he asked, pulling away from her and looking up at her. His eyes met hers, and in a flash, those wide eyes narrowed slightly. She watched in amazement as the happy-go-lucky persona fell away from the young man and was replaced by a scrutinizing gaze which made her breath catch in her throat. No, he didn't look like Goku at the moment, his eyes were identical to Kakarotto's.

"You're not our Bulma-san, are you?" he questioned after a lengthy pause, his face showing his disappointment. Despite the fact she'd never met the child before, seeing such a look on his face made her feel guilty. Still, she could not deny his words, so she nodded. His young brow furrowed, then, "So...you're the other one?"

Her mouth dropped open and, once again, she looked to Goku, this time for an explanation. He looked just as confused as her.

"Vegeta-san told me when he came back," Gohan explained before either had a chance to answer. "He said you dropped into King Kai's because you needed Dad to help you save your timeline. And he said that's where our Bulma-san is right now."

Again, she nodded, though this time it was because she didn't trust her voice when he sounded so...old...so much like her own son.

"So I guess that means," he muttered, turning to Goku, "you're still dead, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid so," Goku replied.

Gohan seemed to think the whole situation over for a minute. Then, to Bulma's utter amazement, he looked up and smiled at his father once more. "Well, either way, I'm really happy to see you again, Dad."

"Me too." Goku gave his son another hug, then let him go, though he kept his eyes firmly on his son's face. "Listen, the reason I'm here is because I need you to do me a really, really big favor."

"Anything," Gohan answered without hesitation.

"Hold on, son," Goku said with a tender smile, "hear me out first because this won't be easy. For one thing, you'll be gone for several days-"

Again, there was no pause. "Okay."

"-and you're gonna have to travel to the other timeline, where Bulma is now, with Vegeta-"

"Okay."

"-Vegeta's gonna be training the version of me in that time, so I'll need you to keep an eye on him so he doesn't go too far now that he'll have a chance to actually beat me-"

A laugh. "No problem, Dad."

"-and most important of all, I'm gonna need you to train Kakarotto and this Bulma's son, Isaka, so he can be as strong as you are now."

This time silence was the only sound which met his request. Gohan's eyes were back to their normal size and then some until they were like saucers. Then he shifted his weight from one foot to another and swallowed hard. "You...you mean, in her timeline..."

"Yeah, Bulma and Kakarotto got together in that timeline."

"Wow," Gohan breathed. "Vegeta didn't tell me that part."

It was strange to Bulma; the boy looked contemplative rather than shocked or upset by the news. As the silence continued, she decided now was as good a time as any to speak up. "I...I am sorry, Gohan-san," she offered hesitantly, unnerved further when the boy turned his attention directly to her. "Forgive me for not correcting your assumption about my identity when we first met. I have no real excuse, aside from the fact I was taken aback by your...enthusiastic greeting." She finished with a bow. When she lifted herself back to full height, the boy's eyebrows were almost to his hairline.

"You really are from a different time," he said. "I don't think Bulma-san even knows _how_ to talk so formally." Then his face lit up. "Hey, does my dad talk like that where you're from?"

"As a matter of fact, he does."

Gohan laughed and turned to Goku, who was smiling sheepishly. "So I'm gonna get to meet him? Cool!"

"Isn't it, though?" Goku stated. "I wish I could go too..."

"Why can't you?"

Goku shrugged. "I dunno...King Kai just said I can't go."

"Is it cause you're dead here and alive there?" Gohan asked his father.

It was Bulma who answered. "I do not understand why that would make a difference. Vegeta no Ouji is dead in my time and alive in yours, and he will be going with you,"she pointed out.

"Well...maybe it's because they don't want you to go since the other you'll be there too," Gohan offered. "Help avoid anything funny happening if anyone were to see you and stuff."

Bulma's face betrayed the fact she was impressed with his deduction. "That makes sense. If Goku appeared and someone mistook him for Kakarotto, the effects could be catastrophic, and of course, since I've only been dead for a year, my reappearance would likely cause mass hysteria."

For the first time since meeting Gohan, she felt comfortable knowing it would be he who would train her son. As a matter of fact, they would probably get along quite well, she mused with a small smile of her own.

With her mind at ease, she was ready to get on with things. "Where do we go now, Goku? Do we need to teleport to where the Saiyajin Prince lives?"

"Nope."

"Is he coming here then?"

Gohan closed his eyes for less than a second, then turned toward the window and pointed. "Yeah, there he is now!" Sure enough, there was a bright blue light streaking directly at them.

"So what do ya say? Ready to go?" Goku asked his son.

"Ready when you are, Dad," the boy replied. Then he gasped. "Wait! Lemme write Mom a note real quick so she won't worry too much!" He dashed out of the room and down the hall.

Goku looked relieved. "Awesome, now I don't have to tell her!"

End Chapter Twelve


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